Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Missing Merchantman

By Harry Collingwood
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Harry Collingwood is a superlatively good writer of books about the sea
because he was himself a working designer of ships, and a shipwright.
This makes his style extremely authoritative.

In this book the crew of a vessel, meaning in this case the deckhands,
got it into their heads that the captain and officers of merchant
vessels were paid far too much, and that ordinary deckhands ought to be
paid on the same scale.  In other hands they had been "robbed of fair
wages" for hundreds of years.  They quite forgot the education and skill
that goes into the training of an officer, as well as the taking of
responsibility.  So they take the ship, making themselves essentially
into pirates.  The officers and passengers, being resourceful people,
manage somehow to work their way out of this predicament, and eventually
to bring their ship back home, where she had been posted as "Missing"
for some considerable time.

As always with this author the book makes an excellent audiobook.
________________________________________________________________________
THE MISSING MERCHANTMAN

BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD



CHAPTER ONE.

INTRODUCTORY.

This story opens on a glorious day about the middle of July; and
Weymouth, with its charming bay, was looking its very best.  A gentle
southerly breeze was blowing; the air was clear--just warm enough to
render a dip in the sea the quintessence of luxury--and so laden with
ozone and the wholesome scent of the sea that to breathe it was like
imbibing a draught of _elixir vitae_.  The east land was in itself a
picture as it stretched across the horizon in front of the town, its
lofty chalk-cliffs and swelling downs, the latter dotted here and there
with a solitary farm-house or a clump of trees, gleaming softly through
the clear transparent atmosphere in a thousand varied hues of green, and
creamy white, and ruddy neutral, which gradually merged into a series of
delicate pearly-greys as the eye followed the bold outline to where
Saint Alban's Head sloped down into the azure sea.  The noble bay,
gently ruffled by the morning breeze, shimmered and sparkled brilliantly
in the strong unclouded sunlight, its rippling wavelets chasing each
other shoreward in long lines until they plashed with a soothing murmur
into mimic breakers upon the broad, smooth, firm expanse of sand,
whereon happy children were disporting themselves, bare-footed, with
boat, and spade, and bucket, to their innocent hearts' content.

The proprietors of the bathing-vans were doing an excellent business,
their lumbering vehicles jolting noisily down into the water with
scarcely a moment's intermission.  The band, drawn up in front of the
hideous statue to George the Fourth, which so greatly disfigures the
town, was discoursing, fairly well, a selection of good music; a long
line of chairs on the sands was fully occupied by loungers, mostly
ladies, reading, or amusing themselves by watching the antics of the
thronging children; the broad promenade was crowded with people on
pleasure bent.  Light skiffs and neat well-appointed sailing boats were
darting hither and thither along the surface of the glancing waters; and
farther out, at a distance of about a mile from the shore, some half-a-
dozen or more yachts of various rigs and tonnage were lying at anchor,
with their club burgees gaily fluttering in the breeze, and most of them
with mainsail hoisted, or with other preparations actively going forward
toward getting under weigh for a day's cruise.

The delightful little watering-place, it has been said, was looking its
best; or at least this was the opinion expressed by a young man who,
accompanied by his father and sister, walked up the esplanade on that
particular morning, on his way to the railway-station _en route_ for
London by the ten o'clock South-Western express--his luggage having
preceded him on a hand-truck.

As the young man happens to be the hero of the present story, it may not
be amiss to describe him somewhat particularly.

Edward Damerell, then--for that was his name--was, at the date of our
introduction to him, within a month of reaching his nineteenth year; and
he had hoped to spend his birthday at home with his father and sister,
the only relatives he possessed on earth, but circumstances had ordered
it otherwise.  He stood just five feet seven inches in his stockings;
was as stout-built and shapely a youth as one need wish to see, though
it was evident that he had not yet attained his full growth; his frank,
handsome, albeit sunburnt face was lighted up by a pair of keen, honest
grey eyes and crowned by a close-cut crop of crisp, curly, flaxen hair--
a good-tempered, pleasant-looking fellow enough, true as steel, brave as
true, and, having been already three years at sea, as smart a seaman as
ever trod a plank.

His father was his exact counterpart, with the comparatively trifling
difference that he was not quite so tall as Ned; was broader in the
beam, and, as of course might be expected, much older-looking, though
the appearance of age was due principally to the grey with which his
hair and bushy whiskers (which latter appendages, by the by, Ned was
still without) was thickly dashed; the old gentleman's eye being as keen
and bright as his son's, and his step almost as springy.

Edward Damerell, senior, it may be as well to mention, was a naval
lieutenant, retired upon half-pay.  He had seen a great deal of service
in his youth, principally on the West Coast of Africa and in the China
seas, and had been fairly fortunate in the matter of acquiring prize-
money--to which circumstance he was indebted for the exceedingly
comfortable little cottage on the hill overlooking Newton's Cove, which
he had inhabited for some twenty-five years, having purchased and
settled down in it upon his marriage and retirement from the service.

His daughter Eva was a beautiful girl, as good as she was beautiful, and
the very apple of her father's eye--which is all that need be said of
her, as she plays no part in the events which it is the purpose of this
narrative to chronicle.

Young Edward Damerell, born and brought up within sight and sound of the
sea, early manifested a natural desire to tread in his father's
footsteps by following the same profession.  To this the old gentleman
made no very serious objection, but he would not hear of his son
entering the navy.  The service, he insisted, had been ruined by the
introduction of steam and armour-plates.  Moreover, he had discovered,
to his cost, that without money and influence, and plenty of both, a man
stood but little chance, in these piping times of peace, of making any
great amount of headway up the ratlins of promotion.  "So," said he, "if
Ned chooses to go to sea, he will have to enter the merchant service,
where good seamen are still, and always will be, required."

And this Ned did under the most advantageous circumstances, as
"midshipman-apprentice" on board an Australian clipper belonging to the
"Bruce" line, in which employ he was duly serving his time--very
creditably, indeed, to himself and to the officers who had the training
of him, if the report of the skipper, Captain Blyth, was to be believed.
And he was now, on this particular morning, leaving home once more,
after a month's leave, to join a brand-new steel-built clipper called
the _Flying Cloud_, the latest addition to the "Bruce" fleet, of which
ship Captain Blyth had been given the command.

As the lad arrived opposite King Street, the point where he would have
to turn off and leave the esplanade and the "front," as the inhabitants
term it, he paused a moment, looked longingly to right and left of him
at the long terraces of neat houses facing the sea, at the "Nothe" on
the opposite side of the harbour, at the sands, the bay, and the long
stretch of bold coast to the northward and eastward, and sighed
regretfully at the thought that he was about to leave the place once
more for so long a time.  He was enthusiastically attached to his
profession--as every lad must be if he would make his way in the world--
but he was also attached to the place of his birth, and infinitely more
was he attached to his father and sister; and though he was too manly to
express sorrow at his departure, the feeling was there and would not be
altogether ignored.  It was, therefore, with but an indifferently
successful assumption of cheerfulness that he exclaimed:

"Well, good-bye, old town!  Who knows how many weary leagues I shall
have to travel, and through what hardships and perils I may have to
pass, before I tread your streets again!"

And, linking his arms in those of his father and sister, he crossed the
road and passed down the street to the railway-station.

Poor Ned! when he spoke so lightly he little knew that the words had so
prophetic a meaning.

In due course he arrived in London, and, chartering a cab, made the best
of his way to his new ship, which was taking in cargo in the London
Docks.  On arriving alongside his first act was naturally to give a
scrutinising look at the craft and to mentally compare her with the
_Bride of Abydos_, his former ship; and much as he thought of the
latter, he was almost reluctantly compelled to admit that the _Flying
Cloud_ greatly excelled her in every point most highly prized by a
seaman.  She was the very latest exponent of the shipbuilder's art, and
of the success which has attended the efforts of the naval architect to
combine, in the highest degree, a large carrying capacity with perfect
sea-going powers and super-excellence in point of speed.  She was just a
nice, comfortable, handy size--twelve hundred tons register--steel-
built, and of exceptional strength, classed 100 A1 at Lloyd's; a beamy
rather than a deep vessel, with very fine ends.  And an innovation had
been introduced in her construction in the shape of a pair of deep
bilge-keels, which her designer asserted would not only very greatly
modify her rolling, but would also cause her to hang to windward like a
yacht.  She was an exceptionally pretty model, with a full poop, and was
full-rigged, her stability being most satisfactorily demonstrated by the
fact that her skysail-yards were aloft and crossed notwithstanding the
circumstance that she had only just begun to receive her cargo.  She was
painted grey, with a broad white riband and painted ports, her top-sides
being black.  She carried a very handsome, well-executed carving of a
woman, with long, streaming hair and fluttering drapery, under her
bowsprit, by way of figurehead; and Ned noted with deep satisfaction,
that instead of the double topsail-yards now so common in large ships,
she was fitted with single revolving yards for patent reefing topsails.

He was interrupted in the midst of his admiring scrutiny by a hail from
Mr Bryce, the chief-mate, who, after a somewhat off-hand welcome,
informed him that he was wanted to assist in receiving and taking
account of the cargo, which was coming down too rapidly to be dealt with
by one man.  Stowing away his "dunnage," therefore, in the after deck-
house, and flinging his bedding into the berth which he selected for his
own occupation, he quickly rejoined the mate, who furnished him with
book and pencil, and stationed him at the after hatchway to take account
of everything which passed down that receptacle.

As soon as the work of the day was over and the hatches had been put on
and secured, Ned made his way to Captain Blyth's lodgings, and reported
himself as having returned to duty.

He had observed, with some surprise, that the stevedores had left a
large vacant space in the centre of the main hatchway, and at the very
bottom of the ship; and he had once or twice wondered, during the course
of the afternoon, what could be the nature of the cargo for which this
space was being reserved.  That it must be something heavy he knew, from
the fact that the bottom of the hold had been selected for its stowage.
The secret, however (if secret there was), came out next morning, when
several very heavy cases of peculiar shape were brought alongside; which
cases turned out to contain twelve steel 14-pounder breech-loading
rifled field-pieces, with mountings, etcetera, complete, and several
hundred rifles, sword-bayonets, etcetera, for the use of the colonial
volunteers.  The nature and destination of the contents were legibly
enough set forth in stencilled lettering on the outside of the cases,
and they very naturally attracted a considerable amount of curiosity as
they were carefully hoisted out of the trucks and lowered into the
ship's hold.  Among the onlookers Ned soon noticed a swarthy-
complexioned man, who wore gold rings in his ears, and was dressed in a
very natty suit of dark blue cloth--evidently a seaman in shore-going
togs--who manifested quite an unusual amount of interest in the cases
and their handling, and who finally climbed into the trucks and lent a
hand in the slinging of them, exhibiting in the performance of his self-
imposed task a very considerable amount of smartness and seamanlike
dexterity.  And when the cases were all at length safely deposited in
their destined place on the dunnage in the bottom of the hold, the man
was observed narrowly scrutinising the ship herself--hull, spars, and
rigging--with just that appearance of intelligent and appreciative
interest which a smart seaman would be likely to bestow upon so handsome
and well-appointed a craft as was the _Flying Cloud_.

The cargo came alongside with very satisfactory rapidity, and on the
morning of the eighth day from that on which Ned joined, hopes were
entertained that the evening would see the loading of the ship completed
and the hatches put on for good and all.  The swarthy-complexioned man
had been seen on the quay alongside two or three times since the loading
of the guns.  He had evidently taken a fancy to the ship; and Ned was
therefore by no means surprised when, on the morning in question, he
again appeared, and, seeing Captain Blyth on the poop, stepped on board,
and approaching the skipper asked if the crew had all been shipped.
They had not, as it happened; so, after a short conversation, which
seemed to give complete satisfaction to both parties concerned, the man
was instructed to present himself at noon that day at the shipping
office to sign articles.

"Rather a smart fellow, that," observed the skipper to the chief-mate,
as the man swung himself lightly on to the rail and stepped thence
ashore.  "I'm very glad to have fallen in with him; he is an A.B., and
has been twice round the Horn, so he ought to know his business.  And he
tells me that there are five other men, former shipmates of his, and
good, smart, active, willing men, staying at the same boarding-house
with himself, who, he believes, will be willing to ship with us for the
voyage; so I hope we shall have a good crew."

Mr Bryce assented, and dutifully echoed the skipper's wish; but it was
with a tone and manner which seemed to indicate that he did not feel
very greatly interested in the matter; and Captain Blyth, when he went
ashore shortly afterwards, felt more than ever sorry that his former
mates were not to be with him on the forthcoming voyage.  For, it must
be explained, the late chief-mate of the _Bride of Abydos_ had been
promoted to the post of master of that ship--or _captain_, as the
masters of merchant ships like to be called--and the second-mate had met
with an accident, and was lying disabled in an hospital.  However, it
could not be helped, and Captain Blyth was obliged to content himself
with the hope that Mr Bryce--who had come to him with a very good
recommendation--would turn out to be a better chief-mate than, at the
moment, seemed likely.

The _Flying Cloud's_ crew were shipped that day, and they comprised a
second-mate, a steward, a cook, a carpenter, a sailmaker, a boatswain
and boatswain's-mate, eight A.B.'s (or able seamen), including the
swarthy man--whose name, by the way, was entered upon the articles as
Joshua Williams--and his five shipmates, and ten ordinary seamen.
These, with the captain, chief-mate, and four midshipmen-apprentices,
made up a crew of thirty-one, all told; which, exclusive of the captain,
cook, steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, neither of whom kept watch,
made up a crew of thirteen hands in a watch, none too many for a full-
rigged ship of the size of the _Flying Cloud_, with such a spread of
canvas as she could show to the breeze.

During the afternoon Ned made a little journey up into the Minories, to
the studio of a clever marine artist to whom he had given a commission
to paint the portrait of the ship; and when he reached the place he was
much gratified to find that not only was the picture finished, but also
that it was a capital representation of the _Flying Cloud_ as she would
appear at sea under all plain sail upon a taut bowline.  Her ensign was
shown flying from the peak; the house-flag--a large square white flag,
with blue border, blue Saint Andrew's cross, and a large letter B in red
in the centre--floated from the main-skysail-mast-head, and her number
from the mizen, in response to a signal from another ship seen in the
distance.  It was a very spirited picture, and as Ned paid down its
price, and gave instructions for its immediate despatch to his father's
address, he felt that the money had been well laid out.

The hatches were put on, and, with the exception of the after-hatch,
battened down that evening; and, whilst this was being done, Captain
Blyth made his appearance on board, accompanied by a friend, a certain
Captain Spence, who had been invited to take a farewell glass of wine in
the _Flying Cloud's_ saloon.  Captain Spence was in command of a very
fine ship, named the _Southern Cross_, some two hundred tons larger than
the _Flying Cloud_.  She also was in the Australian trade; and though
the two ships belonged to rival lines, and there was intense emulation
between the skippers of the "Bruce" and the "Constellation" clippers,
Captains Blyth and Spence were old and sincere friends, and the rivalry
between them was all in good part.  They had long been secretly anxious
to have a fair race together; but hitherto circumstances had been
against them.  Now, however, their opportunity had come, for the
_Southern Cross_ had also been loading in the London docks for
Melbourne, the port to which the _Flying Cloud_ was bound, and, like the
latter, was to haul out of dock with the morrow's tide; and the two
skippers had each made a bet of a new hat that his own ship would make
the passage from Gravesend to Port Phillip Heads in a less number of
hours than the other, which bet was now to be ratified over their
parting glass of wine.  The _Southern Cross_, however, would get the
start by about one day, as the _Flying Cloud_ was to call at Tilbury
Fort to take on board a quantity of ammunition for the guns and rifles
which she was carrying out, and Captain Spence was cherishing an inward
hope that a fine easterly breeze which had been blowing for some days
would carry him well down channel and then chop round from the southward
in good time to baffle his old friend during the passage of the _Flying
Cloud_ through the Downs.  A somewhat curious and amusing characteristic
of the friendly rivalry between the skippers was that, whilst each
implicitly believed in his own ship, he affected a faith in the superior
qualities of the other, and framed his remarks accordingly.  So when the
little farewell chat and the parting bottle of wine had come to an end,
and Captain Spence rose to go, he held out his hand with:

"Well, good-bye, Blyth, and a pleasant passage to you.  You will catch
us somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Line, I expect, if not before;
and, should the weather be fine, I hope you will come on board and dine
with me, and make the acquaintance of my passengers, who, I assure you,
seem to be very capital people."

"Thank you very much," was the response; "but you know very well that
this poor little ship has no chance whatever with such a spanking craft
as the _Southern Cross_.  Look how deep we are in the water; and we
don't even know our proper trim.  Then, too, the glass seems inclined to
drop a little, which probably means that the wind is going to haul round
from the southward, which, with the twenty-four hours' start you will
have, will carry you down channel nicely enough, whilst we shall be hung
up in the Downs.  So that, altogether, I consider you ought to reach
Melbourne about eight days, at least, ahead of us, which will give you
ample time to tell them that we are coming."

And so, with mutual protestations of disbelief in each other's
prognostications, the rival skippers laughingly shook hands and parted.

On the following morning the two ships hauled out of dock, the _Southern
Cross_ leading, and proceeded down the river in tow, the one anchoring
off Gravesend to take her passengers on board, whilst the other went
alongside the wharf at Tilbury Fort.  The ammunition was all ready for
shipment, as it happened; and, securely packed in copper-lined cases,
was that same afternoon carefully stowed on top of all in the after
hatchway, whence, if necessary, it could be easily and quickly removed
and launched overboard in case of an outbreak of fire.  The _Southern
Cross_, meanwhile, with her tug hanging on to her, had only paused long
enough to allow of her captain going on shore and fetching off her
passengers, when she had proceeded.  The _Flying Cloud_, on the other
hand, having now completed her cargo, and battened down everything,
shifted her berth and anchored off Gravesend pier; but, as it had not
been expected that she would receive quite such quick despatch at
Tilbury, the passengers would not be on board until the following
morning, so there was no alternative but to wait for them.  In the
meantime there was plenty for the crew to do in getting the decks
cleaned up and everything made ship-shape; and this task was so
satisfactorily performed, under the supervision of the mates, that
Captain Blyth's spirits rose, and he began to hope that he had secured
not only a good crew, but good officers as well.  He was also
particularly pleased to notice that the steerage passengers--twelve in
number, all men, who had joined the ship in the docks on the preceding
evening--though a rough-looking lot, were scarcely as bad as they
looked, evincing a distinct inclination to make themselves useful and to
assist the crew as much as possible.

On the following morning, directly after breakfast, Captain Blyth
proceeded on shore in his gig to look up his passengers; and about ten
o'clock they were seen approaching the ship, a shore-boat being in
attendance with the trunks, portmanteaux, etcetera, which contained
their immediate necessaries (the bulk of their luggage having been sent
on board whilst the ship was in dock).  Upon this, the windlass was at
once manned, the cable hove short, and the tug signalled to come
alongside and take the tow-rope.  These preparations were still actively
in progress when the two boats pulled alongside the ship; and by the
time that the passengers had reached the decks and their luggage had
been passed up, the tug had received the tow-rope and had passed ahead,
and the anchor was reported ready for tripping.  The shore-boat was then
discharged, the gig hoisted up, the windlass was again manned, the
paddles of the tug began to revolve, the anchor was broken out of the
ground, and the long voyage had at length actually commenced.

The saloon passengers were seven in number (quite a pleasant little
family party, Captain Blyth averred), and they consisted of a Doctor and
Mrs Henderson, with their daughter, Lucille, aged six; Miss Sibylla
Stanhope, Mrs Henderson's sister; Mr and Mrs Gaunt, and their son,
Percy, aged seven.

Dr Henderson was a medical man who, notwithstanding his undoubted
ability, had found it difficult to establish a satisfactory practice in
England, and was therefore going to try his fortune in the southern
hemisphere, taking his family and his wife's orphan sister with him; and
Mr Gaunt was a civil engineer on his way to the colony to take up a
lucrative professional appointment.  They were both clever, quiet,
unassuming men, very gentlemanly in manner, but with nothing
particularly striking in their appearance; the kind of men, in fact, of
whom it is impossible to predict whether they will, in case of
emergency, turn out to be heroes or mere useless incumbrances.

The ladies were very much more interesting.  Mrs Henderson was a very
handsome, dark-eyed young matron of medium height, and a temper as
perfect as her form; in short, a very charming person altogether.  Miss
Stanhope bore a very marked resemblance to her sister, except that she
was much younger, being barely eighteen years of age; but there were not
wanting indications that her charms would one day even surpass those of
the lovely Mrs Henderson Mrs Gaunt was a _petite_ blonde, very pretty
and engaging, and an excellent foil to Mrs Henderson, the two ladies
being of exactly opposite types of beauty.  Of the children no more need
be said than that they were light-hearted, joyous, and just well-behaved
enough to show that their parents did not intend to spoil them if it
could possibly be helped.

The first act of the saloon passengers, on reaching the deck, was to
inquire for their respective cabins, of which they at once took
possession, and forthwith set about arranging in such manner as they
judged would prove most convenient during the long journey they had
before them.  The trunks uncorded, and the heavier work done, the
gentlemen had it gently insinuated to them by their fair partners that
they were rather in the way than otherwise; and they accordingly
adjourned to the poop with the youngsters, where, over a cigar, they
soon made acquaintance with each other and with the ship's officers.  By
luncheon-time they had mutually arrived at the conclusion that they were
likely to get on exceedingly well together, that the captain was a
capital fellow, the mates but so-so, the midshipmen very gentlemanly
lads, and the ship everything that could be wished; and that, on the
whole, they were justified in expecting the passage to be as pleasant as
it was likely to prove long.  The ladies, meanwhile, had been busy
below, and had found time not only to convert their somewhat cramped
quarters into perfect bowers of comfort and convenience, but also to
follow the gentlemen's example, by cultivating mutually friendly
relations; so that when the little party sat down to luncheon they felt
almost as much at home with each other as though they had been
acquainted for the best part of their lives, instead of for a few hours
only.



CHAPTER TWO.

ON BOARD THE "FLYING CLOUD."

The weather was gloriously fine; much too fine, indeed, to suit Captain
Blyth, for, as he and his friend Captain Spence had foreseen, the
easterly breeze which had prevailed for so long had at length died
completely away, leaving the surface of the river as smooth as a sheet
of polished silver.  The air had grown much warmer, a sure precursor of
a southerly wind; and the ladies had, in consequence, changed their
dresses immediately after luncheon, discarding the woollen fabrics in
which they had embarked and substituting for them dainty costumes of
cool, light, flimsy material, arrayed in which they established
themselves for the afternoon on the poop.

It was somewhat late that night when the _Flying Cloud_ rounded the
North Foreland; and, as Captain Blyth had feared, the little breeze
which had sprung up with the setting of the sun was all out from the
southward.  There was, however, a capital moon, almost full; the tide,
too, was in their favour.  So, instead of anchoring in the Downs until
next day, as had been his first intention, he determined to keep on; and
all sail was accordingly made upon the ship as soon as the tug had cast
off the tow-rope.  A stretch was made across the channel towards the
French coast, in the direction of Gravelines; and great was the
satisfaction of all hands when they found that the ship, on a taut
bowline, and with only wind enough to heel her some six inches under
every stitch of plain sail they could set upon her, was slipping along
through the water at the rate of fully five knots, and that, too, so
cleanly that the ripple under the bows was inaudible to the men on the
forecastle unless they put their heads over the side and listened for
it, whilst scarcely a whirl or a bubble was to be seen in the long
smooth wake which she left behind her.

The breeze continued scant all night, notwithstanding which the _Flying
Cloud_ was, at eight o'clock next morning, as close to the French coast
as Captain Blyth cared to take her, and she was accordingly hove about,
the wind so far favouring her that it was confidently hoped she would
weather Beachy Head and so pass out clear of everything.  With the
rising of the sun the wind gave promise of freshening, which promise was
so far fulfilled that by noon the ship was skimming along at a pace of
over nine knots an hour, she being at the time just abreast of Calais.
The breeze still increasing, and the tide being again in their favour,
Cape Grisnez was passed little more than an hour later; and then,
running out from under the lee of the land, the swell of the channel
almost immediately began to make itself felt.  The full strength of the
wind at the same time also became apparent, and the ship, now heeling
over sufficiently to send the water spouting up through the scupper-
holes with every lee-roll, increased her pace to a fair, honest ten
knots, steering "full and by."  Captain Blyth was simply enchanted with
the performance of his new command, feeling fully convinced (though he
did not yet venture to give utterance to his conviction) that in her,
that hitherto invincible clipper, the _Southern Cross_, would at length
assuredly find she had met her match.  By three o'clock Dungeness was
broad on the lee-bow; by four o'clock it was fairly abaft the beam; and
when the passengers went on deck after dinner they found the ship in the
act of weathering Beachy, though without very much room to spare, the
wind evincing an inclination to veer round from the westward.  At eight
o'clock next morning, when Ned came on deck to keep the forenoon watch,
he saw that he was on familiar ground, the ship being about midway
between Saint Catherine's Point and Saint Alban's Head, the high land at
the east end of the Isle of Wight looming like a white cloud on the
horizon astern, or rather on the starboard quarter, whilst Saint Alban's
gleamed brilliantly in the bright sunlight on the starboard bow.  The
ship was still close-hauled on the larboard tack and going about six
knots, the wind having headed her somewhat during the night and fallen
lighter.  The weather was magnificent, and everybody was in capital
spirits.  Captain Blyth was pleased because, though the ship was not
just then travelling at any great speed, he had at all events got half-
way down the channel; the passengers were pleased because they were
having such a splendid view of the coast--with the prospect of getting a
still better view later on in the day, as Ned informed them--and most
pleased of all was Ned himself, because he not only looked forward to
getting one more glimpse of dear old Weymouth itself, but also hoped to
be able to make his near vicinity known to his father.

Noon found the _Flying Cloud_ abreast of Saint Alban's Head and within
half a mile of the shore; and, this bold promontory once rounded, all
hands found themselves face to face with that magnificent panorama of
rolling downs, smiling valleys, tiny strips of snow-white beach, and
lofty precipitous chalk-cliffs, which help to make the scenery of
Weymouth Bay one of the fairest prospects within the boundaries of the
British island.

The ship was reaching right down along the coast at a distance of little
more than two miles from the shore, and though it was now his watch
below, Ned undertook to point out the various objects of interest as
they crept into view, such as Warbarrow Bay, with Lulworth Castle
nestling among its surrounding trees; Lulworth Cove, with its bold,
rocky entrance; the noble natural archway of Durdle Door; the curious
Burning Cliff, and so on; and when they were off the latter he made bold
to ask Captain Blyth's permission to hoist the ship's colours,
explaining that he would like his father to see the vessel and to know
that he was so near at hand.  Ned was a very great favourite with the
skipper; moreover, the latter and Ned's father were old friends.  The
cheery answer given to this request, therefore, was:

"Yes, certainly, my lad; show our bunting by all means.  We shall then
be reported as having passed, and the owners will be glad to learn that
we have crept so far on our way."

Armed with this permission Ned lost no time in getting out the flags and
hoisting them exactly as they were represented in the picture he had
sent to his father, and which he knew must be in the old gentleman's
possession by this time.

That afternoon old Mr Damerell and his daughter were, according to
their usual custom, on the Nothe, Eva with a piece of dainty embroidery
work wherewith to amuse herself, and her father with his somewhat
ancient but trusty telescope, without which, indeed, he was scarcely
ever seen out of doors.  They had hardly reached the old gentleman's
favourite point of look-out when his quick eye detected the ship
reaching down along the east land, and even before he had adjusted the
telescope he had a presentiment that she might be the _Flying Cloud_.
He had received a hastily-scribbled line or two from Ned--forwarded by
means of the shore-boat, which had taken off the passengers' luggage at
Gravesend--which had made him acquainted with the day and hour of the
ship's sailing; and his long experience and intimate acquaintance with
the navigation of the Channel, aided by his habitual observation of the
weather, enabled him to follow the subsequent movements of the _Flying
Cloud_ almost as unerringly as though his eye had been on her the whole
time.  In one particular only had his calculations been inaccurate, and
that was in the _speed_ of the ship; he had not reckoned on her being
either so fast or so weatherly as she had proved to be, and his
reckoning located her as being at that moment within sight of but to the
eastward of the Wight.  When, however, he saw a large ship, loaded, and
evidently by the course she was steering, bound out of the channel, and
when he further noted the clean, white, new appearance of the stranger's
canvas, the peculiar painting of her hull, and the very marked
similarity of appearance which she bore to the picture at that moment
hanging in the place of honour on the walls of his snug little parlour,
he was quite prepared to admit a possible error in his calculations
sufficient to account for the appearance of the ship where she actually
was; and when he saw the colours hoisted, he had, of course, no further
doubt upon the matter.  The ship, it is true, was heading so obliquely
towards him that he could only see the house-flag at her main-skysail-
mast-head; but that was quite sufficient.  The broad snow-white field,
the blue border and cross, and the large red B in the centre, were
plainly distinguishable through his telescope; and turning to his
daughter he said, with just a faint tremor of excitement in his voice:

"Eva, do you see that ship reaching down under the east land, yonder?"

"The one you have been watching so intently, father?  Yes, I see her,"
was the reply.  "What a noble object she looks, with her white canvas
gleaming in the sun!  It is not often that we see such large ships as
that so close in with the land, is it?  I wonder where she is going!"

"She is bound to Melbourne.  She is called the _Flying Cloud_, and she
has a young gentleman named Edward Damerell on board her, who, I'll be
bound, is at this moment intently looking in this direction," answered
the old gentleman decisively.

"Oh, father, you can't mean it!" exclaimed the young lady impetuously,
though she knew very well that her father _did_ mean it.  "Pray let us
make haste down to the boat and go out to meet him."

Her father looked irresolute, took another glance at the ship, then
shook his head sorrowfully.

"It would be of no use, my dear," he said.  "Before we could reach the
boat and get her under weigh yonder ship will have tacked, and fast as
the _Eva_ is she would never catch her in this light breeze.  No; we
must be satisfied to remain here and see as much of the _Flying Cloud_
as we can.  Perhaps when the ship goes about we may even succeed in
catching a glimpse of dear Ned himself through the glass."

At this moment the loud clanging of a bell, which was being rung
somewhere down in the harbour, smote noisily upon their ears.

"The very thing!" exclaimed Eva, starting eagerly to her feet.  "Come,
father, we have not a moment to lose!  That is the first bell.  The
_Victoria_ is to make an excursion to the Bill this afternoon, and if we
go on the trip we shall surely pass not very far from Ned's ship."

"Capital!" exclaimed the old man cheerily.  "Come along, my girl; we are
neither of us rigged exactly in a style suited to our mingling with
swells; but never mind, we shall both pass muster, I dare say, and,
whether or no, we have no time to shift our canvas."

And away went the pair, without more ado, making the best of their way
toward the steps which lead down the side of the hill to the quay,
whence they took a boat across the harbour, the second bell from the
steamer admonishing them that they had no time to spare.  They reached
the pay-gate in good time, however, took their tickets, and ascended to
the hurricane-deck just as the captain of the boat climbed to his own
private bridge.  The last bell rang, a few belated excursionists came
rushing breathlessly down, and whilst they were scrambling for their
tickets the _Flying Cloud_, now within two miles of the town, was seen
to tack.  The laggards hurried on board, the gang-plank was drawn
ashore, the ropes were cast off, the engines made a revolution or two
astern to cant the steamer's head toward the centre of the harbour, and
then away the excursion party went, the band on board at the same moment
striking up a lively tune.

By the time that the _Victoria_ had reached the harbour's mouth Mr
Damerell was able to see that they had started at exactly the right
time.  The _Flying Cloud_--a beautiful sight, as she now appeared
broadside-on to them, reaching across the bay, with the afternoon sun
gleaming brilliantly upon her immense spread of canvas--was slipping
along through the water at a speed of about six knots, and it was
apparent she would pass the breakwater-end at about the same moment as
the _Victoria_.  But the excursion steamer's usual course was through
the opening in the breakwater, and not out round its end; and if she now
took that direction the trip would be spoiled, so far, at least, as Mr
Damerell and his daughter were concerned.  The old gentleman looked
round, and saw that Captain Cosens, the veteran commodore of the little
pleasure fleet, was in command, and to him he determined to make his
wishes known.  The captain was talking to some of his lady passengers
when Mr Damerell approached him, but looked up at once and spoke on
recognising an old friend.

"Good-morning, Mr Damerell," said he.  "What fair wind blows you on
board the _Victoria_?  It is not often that you favour us with your
company.  A noble vessel that, isn't she?" indicating the _Flying
Cloud_.  "I take it she is an Australian liner."

"Yes," said Mr Damerell, "that is the _Flying Cloud_, my son's ship,
you know, Captain--"

"What! your son aboard?" interrupted the commodore.  "Starboard, Tom,
starboard a bit, boy! and pass as close to leeward of that ship as you
safely can.  It's not often we have the opportunity to treat our
passengers to a sight of a clipper under all plain sail, so, as the
water is smooth, and we can do so with safety, we will do it to-day; it
will be something of a novelty for them.  And perhaps," he added, his
kindly grey eyes beaming sympathetically, "you may be able to get
another glimpse of Ned as we pass.  Come upon my bridge, Mr Damerell,
you will see better, and he will see you all the quicker too."

The ship and the steamer now rapidly approached each other; and soon
after passing the breakwater-end, the latter shot across the stern of
the former and ranged up on her lee quarter.  The word to "ease her" was
passed below into the _Victoria's_ engine-room; and Mr Damerell and Eva
had the opportunity of not only seeing, but also of exchanging a few
words with Ned, who had soon espied them on the steamer's bridge, and
had placed himself in the mizen-rigging for the purpose.  The pleasure
party on board the steamer were meanwhile thoroughly enjoying the
unwonted sight which the _Flying Cloud_ presented, with her ponderous
but shapely hull, lavishly adorned with gilding at the bow and stern;
her clean, well-ordered decks resplendent with glittering brass-work,
and polished teak and mahogany fittings; her handsome boats, fresh
painted, with the house-flag emblazoned on their bows, and canvas covers
neatly lashed over them from gunwale to gunwale; the lofty masts, the
orderly but intricate maze of standing and running-rigging; and the
towering spread of canvas which seemed to reach almost to the clouds.
Many of them had never in their lives before seen a ship of any size
under her canvas and fairly at sea; and now they were brought into close
proximity with one which was not only "a clipper," but, as the affable
captain of the steamer explained to his numerous questioners, one of the
finest, if not the largest, of that class of vessels afloat.  The little
group of passengers on the poop, seemingly so thoroughly comfortable and
so completely at home, naturally attracted a considerable amount of
attention, the children especially; and one enthusiastic lady on board
the steamer was so completely carried away by the influences of the
moment, that she tossed to little Percy Gaunt a basket of freshly-
gathered flowers which she happened to have with her, which the little
fellow deftly caught, and with a laughing "Thank you very much!" at once
handed to his mother.  Then, the brief conversation between father and
son being brought to an end, the signal for "full speed" was given, and
the steamer drew ahead, the band on board playing "A life on the ocean
wave," and the vessels separated with much waving of hats and
handkerchiefs on both sides.  The steamer was of course the first to
reach the Bill, the _Flying Cloud_ being partially becalmed under the
high land of Portland; and when the pleasure party again passed her, it
was at a distance of about a mile, the ship steering a course which
would take her well clear of the Shambles shoal.

"Bill," said Captain Cosens, when the two vessels were again abreast,
"jump aft, my lad, and dip the ensign!"

The ensign was dipped three times, the salutation being promptly
responded to by the clipper; and then her colours were hauled down as,
catching a freshening breeze, she gracefully inclined to it, and swept
grandly out to seaward.

Such was Mr Damerell's last farewell to his son, on this eventful
occasion at least.  Poor old gentleman! well was it for him that he so
little dreamed of what that son was destined to pass through before they
two again should meet!  Little, as they lost sight of her, did the
light-hearted throng on board the _Victoria_ guess at the horrors of
which that noble ship was to be the theatre.

On clearing the Bill of Portland, and once more getting the true breeze,
it was found by those on board the _Flying Cloud_ that the wind had
veered some points further to the westward, and was now almost dead in
the teeth of their course down channel.  There was a red-hot ebb tide
running, however, which was so much in their favour, and Captain Blyth
held on upon the same tack, pushing out toward mid-channel so as to get
the full benefit of it.  The ship was heading well up to windward of the
Channel Islands, so that she was not doing at all badly; and the wind
having veered so far, the skipper was in hopes it would veer still
further, and so give him a favourable slant down channel after his next
reach in for the land.  Nor was he disappointed; for tacking at six
o'clock to avoid the flood, which he knew would soon be making, he found
himself, at ten o'clock that night, some four miles to the westward of
Beer Head, the wind heading him more and more as he drew in with the
land.  On again tacking, it was found that the ship was heading well up
for the Start, which was passed about four bells in the morning watch;
when, feeling themselves at length safe for a fair run out of the
channel, the ship's departure was taken, together with a small pull upon
the weather braces.  A course was given the helmsman which would carry
the ship well clear of Cape Finisterre, and away went the _Flying Cloud_
to the southward and westward, reeling eleven knots off the log with all
three skysails set.  By three o'clock in the afternoon, Captain Blyth's
reckoning placed the ship off Ushant.  They now began to feel the
regular Atlantic roll, and shortly afterwards the wind, continuing to
veer, worked round so far to the northward of west, that they were not
only enabled to get another good pull upon the weather braces, but also
to set studding-sails on the starboard side, when away went the ship
plunging and rolling across the Bay of Biscay at a pace which amply
justified her name, and sent all hands into ecstasies of delight.  And
the climax of their happiness was reached when, just about sunset, a
large steamer, which had been in sight ahead since noon, was
triumphantly overhauled and passed, though she, like themselves, was
under all the canvas she could show.  Captain Blyth was simply in a
beatitude of bliss; he walked the poop to and fro, rubbing his hands
gleefully, chuckling, and audibly murmuring little congratulatory
ejaculations to himself, fragments of which--such as--"new hat--astonish
that fellow Spence above a trifle, I flatter myself--reach the Heads a
clear week before him," etcetera etcetera--Ned Damerell caught from time
to time as the skipper trotted past him.

In the forecastle, too, there was great jubilation that evening.  Jack
dearly loves a speedy ship; and now that they had had an exemplification
of what the _Flying Cloud_ really _could_ do when she had a fair chance,
all hands were fully agreed that she was by far the fastest ship they
had ever sailed in.

Williams, the man who had assisted at the loading of the guns on board,
was especially enthusiastic upon the subject.

"My eyes! mates, what a pirate-ship this craft would make!" he
ejaculated when at length all hands' catalogue of praises seemed to be
about exhausted.  "Why, if she was mine I'd make my fortune--ay, and
that of all hands belonging to her in less than six months!"

This remark produced a general laugh.  "Why, Josh, bo! you don't mean to
say as how you'd go piratin' if so be as this here pretty little ship
was yourn, do you?" asked Tim Parsons, a great burly, bushy-whiskered
seaman, who was seated on a sea-chest on the opposite side of the
forecastle.

"Why--no, I don't perhaps exactly mean _that_," was the reply.  "And
yet--I don't know--why shouldn't I?  There's worse trades than pirating,
let me tell you, boys?"

"Ay, ay?  Is there?  I should like to hear you name a few of 'em,"
objected Parsons.

"Well, then," said Williams, warming to the subject, "to go no further
than this identical fo'c's'le where we're now sitting, I mean to say
that the trade of sailor-men like ourselves is a precious sight worse.
We're hard worked, badly fed, badly paid--not, mind you, that I'm
finding fault with the treatment we're getting aboard here--far from
it--the grub's good enough for anybody; and, as to work--well, we
haven't seen much of that yet.  But this I _will_ say, I don't like the
looks of either of the mates, and as for the skipper, why, he's a good
enough man, but this ship is going to spoil him.  Now you mark my words
if she don't--he's just finding out that he's got a flyer under him, and
what will be the consequence?  Why, he'll be everlastingly carrying on,
driving the ship all she'll bear, carrying on to the very last minute,
and then it'll be `all hands shorten sail' to save the spars, instead of
handing his canvas in good time, by which means the watch could do all
the work.  Now, you wait a bit, mates, and you'll see I'm right."

There were several melancholy shakes of the head at this, indicative of
a belief on the part of the shakers that these prognostications would
prove only too true.

"But what's all this got to do with piratin'?" persisted Parsons.

"Oh--well--why, everything," returned Williams.  "Here we are, as I was
saying, hard worked, badly fed, and badly paid; whilst if we was the
crew of a pirate clipper we should have nothing to do but trim sails, we
should live upon the fat of the land, and in six months, if our cruise
was a lucky one, we could chuck up the sea and live like princes ashore
for the rest of our days."

Parsons burst into a hearty laugh.

"Why, Williams," he said, "I wouldn't ha' believed you was such a
greenhorn.  You can't _mean_ what you're sayin', shipmate.  I don't
suppose you've ever been a pirate, and I'm precious certain I never
have--or I don't believe we should either of us be sittin' in this here
snug fo'c's'le to-night--so I reckon neither of us knows very much about
the business.  But anybody, not a born fool, must understand without
much tellin' that a pirate's life wouldn't be worth havin'.  As to work,
he'd have to work just as hard as any of us, with the chance of bein'
shot at a minute's notice by the skipper or either of the mates, if he
didn't happen to do his work just exactly to their likin'.  Then he'd be
in constant dread of bein' overhauled by a man-o'-war, and mayhap strung
up to the yard-arm; he daresn't venture into a civilised port, to save
his life.  And then, what about the murders he has to commit?  Faugh! no
piratin' for me, thank 'ee."

"Nobody's wanting you, Tim Parsons, or anybody else, to go pirating" was
the rejoinder.  "I was only talking about the thing in a general sort of
a way.  But, though, as you say, I never was a pirate myself, I happen
to know that the trade ain't quite such a bad one as you'd make out
after all.  First and foremost, there's no occasion for murdering at
all.  `Dead men tell no tales,' we know; but there's ways of stopping
the telling of tales without cutting men's throats.  There's islands
enough scattered about here and there quite out of the regular tracks of
ships, the natives of which don't see the colour of canvas once in a
lifetime; what's to prevent a pirate-ship landing her prisoners there?
They'd have a jolly enough life of it in such a place, and be out of
harm's way.  Then, as to work, I should keep just enough prisoners
aboard to do all the rough, dirty work, and let my regular crew have
easy times of it.  And with such a ship as this, for instance, what need
to be afraid of a man-o'-war, even if there weren't a dozen ways of
bamboozling the `gold-buttons,' which there are.  Then, as to going into
port--that's easy enough managed by a man with a good head-piece on his
shoulders; and, as I was saying, a lucky six months' cruise, and your
fortune's made.  Then, what do you do?  Why, you watches your chance,
scuttles your ship some fine night when the weather's favourable, and
goes ashore with your swag, as a castaway seaman whose ship has sprung a
leak and foundered.  Pooh! don't tell me.  The thing could be easy
enough done."

"Then, I s'pose you're one o' those chaps who wouldn't mind layin' hands
on other people's goods?" quietly inquired Parsons.

"Ah!  I see you've misunderstood me altogether, or you wouldn't ask such
a question as that, shipmate," replied Williams.  "No--if you mean by
`laying my hands on other people's goods,' would I go to any of your
chests and help myself--I would not.  I'm not a thief; I'm as honest as
ever a man here.  You've got nothing in any of your chests, I reckon,
but what I call _necessaries_--things a man needs and has a right to
have.  But--it may seem a strange thing to say, mates, yet it's what I
think--no man has a right to more than he needs of anything whilst other
people have to go short.  Why, for example, should some people have more
cash than they know how to spend--and that, too, without working for
it--whilst we poor sailor-men have to strive night and day, in fair
weather and foul, just to keep soul and body from parting company?  I
say it ain't fair; things ain't evenly divided, as they should be.
We've just as much right to ride about in a carriage as any of them
swells ashore--we're just as good men as they are--and if I had the
chance I'd think I was doing no wrong to help myself to a little of
their spare cash to make myself comfortable with.  That's what _I_ think
about it."

"Ay, ay," muttered one or two, "that sounds fair enough when you come to
overhaul the thing in all its bearings."

Others maintained silence; they instinctively recognised the falsity of
Williams' logic though their intellects were not acute enough to enable
them to put their fingers on the weak spot.  Others, again, shook their
heads dissentingly.  But Parsons, the irrepressible, after looking at
Williams in blank surprise for a moment or two, broke out in a tone of
mingled contempt and raillery:

"There, there, you've said enough, man; and now you'd better clap a
stopper over all.  You're an uncommon smart man, Williams,--I won't deny
it--almost _too_ smart, it seems to me,--and you've just been talking
like this to give us an idee, as it were, of your smartness.  You argufy
like a lawyer, shipmate, there's no mistake about that; but you can't
persuade me that you believe a single word of what you've been sayin'.
Why, man, if you hadn't already proved yourself to be the primest seaman
and the most willing hand aboard this here dandy little hooker I'm blest
if I shouldn't almost be inclined to believe you was a Socialist.  Pah!"
and he spat contemptuously on the floor of the forecastle.

"There goes eight bells," he continued, "and on deck we goes, the
starboard watch.  Whose wheel is it?"



CHAPTER THREE.

THE PLOTTER AT HIS WORK.

The little forecastle conclave made their way out on deck without
waiting for the formality of a call; and, there happening to be no sail-
trimming to attend to, and every prospect of a fine night, they made
themselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit under the
shelter of the bulwarks and elsewhere, excepting, of course, the man
whose trick at the wheel it was and the look-out, the latter of whom
stationed himself on the topgallant-forecastle, to windward, whilst the
former went aft.  The men broke up into little knots, some to smoke,
some to chat, and some to snatch a cat-nap--if they could elude the
vigilance of the second-mate, which they had already discovered was no
very difficult achievement.  The two apprentices in the watch were
keeping a look-out in the waist, the one to windward and the other to
leeward.

Williams and another man, named Rogers, lighted their pipes and settled
themselves on the lee side of the deck, just forward of the fore-
rigging, where they maintained a sort of perfunctory look-out on the
lee-bow whilst smoking and chatting.

"I say, Josh," began Rogers, in a low tone of voice, "don't you think
you pitched matters just a trifle too strong in the fo'c's'le just now?
Seems to me, mate, that you spoke out plainer than was altogether wise
by way of a starter.  If 't had been me, now, I should ha' felt my way a
bit; talked more in a general sort of a way, you know.  I tell you it
fairly took my breath away to hear you rap out about piratin' right off
the reel.  I'm afraid that chap Parsons 'll get suspicious next time any
thing's said."

"Yes," Williams admitted, "I did overrun my ground-tackle a trifle; no
mistake about that.  Parsons sort of provoked me into it.  But don't you
trouble; it'll give the thing a start, and set the hands talking
together; and as for Parsons, you'll see I'll put everything right next
time we have a yarn together.  He called me `smart,' and he's right; I'm
a precious sight smarter than he gives me credit for being, 'cute as he
is.  And there's no harm done; I could see that I've given some of 'em a
new idea or two to overhaul and think about.  I think that, even now, I
could name three or four in our watch who'll prove all right when the
time comes."

There was a great deal more said in the same strain which need not be
repeated; the pith of the conversation has been given, and will suffice
to suggest to the intelligent reader the idea that, even thus early in
her first voyage, there was something radically wrong on board the
_Flying Cloud_.

To the superficial eye, however, everything seemed to point to a
prosperous voyage.  The wind continued slowly but steadily to haul round
from the northward, and by nine o'clock in the evening of the fifth day
out the good ship, with a breeze at about due north and fresh enough to
necessitate the stowing of all three skysails, was off Cape Finisterre
and bowling along upon her course with studding, sails, from the royals
down, set to windward, and reeling off her knots in a manner which
caused the mates to stare incredulously at the line every time they hove
the log.

As for the little party of passengers in the saloon, they were
delighted--charmed with each other, with the captain, with the
midshipmen, with the crew--who seemed to them an exceptionally smart and
steady set of men--with the ship, and with the weather; with everything
and every body, in fact, but the two mates, who both proved to be very
disagreeable men.  There had not been a single symptom of _mal de mer_
among them, though the motion had been pretty lively during the passage
across the Bay of Biscay; and by this time they had thoroughly settled
down and become almost as perfectly at home in the ship as though they
had been born on salt water.  The gentlemen chatted, smoked, walked the
poop, and played chess together, romped with the children, or read aloud
to the ladies whilst they reclined in their deck-chairs and pretended to
work, and otherwise made themselves generally useful.  This was the
usual disposition of their day from about nine a.m. to about eight
o'clock p.m., the married ladies very frequently joining in their
husbands' post-prandial promenade on the poop until the latter hour,
when, the air getting cool, the whole party would adjourn to the saloon,
and, Dr and Mrs Henderson producing their violins and Mr Gaunt his
flute, Mrs Gaunt or Miss Stanhope would open the piano which formed
part of the saloon furniture, and the sounds of a very capital chamber
concert would float out upon the evening air, to the great delectation
of Captain Blyth, the officer of the watch, the helmsman, and--in a
lesser degree, because less perfectly heard by them--the watch clustered
forward on the forecastle-head.

In this quiet, methodical way life went on with the occupants of the
saloon for some time; but at length ambition entered into and seized
upon the imagination of Miss Stanhope, and she determined to learn to
steer.  Hour after hour had she watched the helmsmen standing in more or
less graceful attitudes at the wheel, with their sinewy hands upon the
spokes, now drawing them gently toward them a few inches only to push
them as far away again a minute or two later.  It looked ridiculously
easy; yet there was grandeur in the thought that, by these simple,
effortless movements, the destiny of the ship and all within her was to
a large extent controlled.  There was something almost sublime, to her
imagination, in the ability to "guide the furrowing keel on its way
along the trackless deep," as she expressed it to herself; and she
determined she would learn how to do it.

At length, making her way up on the poop one glorious evening after
dinner--the ship being at the time about in the latitude of Madeira, and
close-hauled on the starboard tack, with a nice little eight-knot breeze
blowing, and everything set that would draw, from the skysail down, and
with the water as smooth as it ever is under such circumstances--she
descried Ned standing aft at the wheel, with his left arm resting on its
rim, his right hand lightly grasping a spoke at arm's-length, and his
eye on the weather leach of the main-skysail, as he softly hummed to
himself the air of a song she had sung a night or two before; and the
young lady at once arrived at the conclusion that this afforded an
excellent opportunity for her to take her first lesson.  So she walked
aft, and opened the negotiations by saying:

"Good evening, Ned."  (Everybody on board, fore and aft, called the lad
Ned; so she naturally did the same.)

"Good evening, Miss Stanhope," replied Ned, straightening himself up and
doffing his cap with a sweep which would not have disgraced a--a--well,
let us say, a Frenchman; "what splendid weather we are having!  Here is
another glorious evening, with every prospect of the breeze lasting, and
perhaps freshening a bit when the sun goes down.  If it only holds for
forty-eight hours longer I hope it will run us fairly into the trades."

"I hope it will, I am sure," said Miss Stanhope, "if `running fairly
into the trades' is going to do us any good.  I presume you are
referring to the trade _winds_, about which Captain Blyth has been
talking during dinner."

"Precisely," acknowledged Ned.

"Could you not _tie_ that wheel, and sit down comfortably, instead of
standing there holding it as you are doing?" inquired Sibylla, by way of
leading up gradually to the proposal she intended to make.

Ned laughed.  "It _looks_ as though one might as well do so," he said.
"But you've no idea how capricious a ship is.  I've not moved the wheel
for the last ten minutes, and look how straight our wake is.  Yet, if I
were to lash this wheel exactly as it is now, it would not be half a
minute before the ship would be shooting up into the wind."

"How very curious!" remarked Sibylla.  "And yet, so long as you hold the
wheel the ship goes perfectly straight.  How do you account for that?"

"I watch her," answered Ned, "and the moment I detect a disposition to
deviate from the right course I check her with a movement of the wheel.
The slightest touch is sufficient in such fine weather as we are having
at present."

"I see," remarked the young lady.  "The ship is as obedient to her guide
as a well-trained child.  And it seems easy enough to guide her.  I
believe I could do it myself."

"Certainly you could.  Would you like to try?" said Ned, who at length
fancied he could see the drift of his fair interlocutor's remarks.

"I should very much," answered Miss Stanhope.  "But I did not like to
ask, fearing that such a request would be a transgression against
nautical etiquette."

"By no means," said Ned.  "Captain Blyth is one of the most gallant of
men; he would never dream of opposing so very reasonable a desire on the
part of a lady--at least, not _now_, when no possible harm can come of
it.  If you will take my place on this raised grating, I shall be
delighted to initiate you into the art.  _This_ side, please--the
helmsman always stands on the weather side.  That is right.  Now grasp
this spoke with your left hand, and this with your right, so--that is
precisely the right attitude.  Now, you feel a slight tremor in the
wheel, do you not?  That indicates that the water is pressing gently
against the rudder--the ship carries a small weather-helm, as a well-
modelled and properly rigged ship should--and if you were to release the
wheel it would move a spoke or two to the right, and the ship would run
up into the wind.  Now, at present we are steering `full and by,' which
means that we are to steer as near the wind as possible, and at the same
time to keep all the sails full.  You see that small sail right at the
top of all on the mainmast?  That is the main-skysail.  It is braced a
shade less fore and aft than the other sails; so if you keep it full you
will be certain to also have all the rest of the canvas full.  Now you
will observe an occasional gentle flapping movement of the weather leach
of that sail--the _edge_ of it, I mean.  That indicates that the sail is
just full and no more; and you must keep your eye on that weather leach
and maintain just precisely that gentle flapping movement.  If it
ceases, the sail is unnecessarily full, and you are not keeping a good
`luff,' and you must turn the wheel a shade to the right; if it
increases, you are sailing rather too near the wind, and must press the
wheel a trifle to the left.  Do you understand me?"

"I think so," answered Sibylla, compressing her lips, grasping the
spokes tightly, and concentrating her whole attention upon the weather
leach of the skysail.

She proved an apt pupil; and though for the first ten minutes or so the
course of the ship was a trifle erratic, and steering in a straight line
proved to be not quite so simple and easy a matter as she had deemed it,
Miss Sibylla soon caught the knack, and at the end of half an hour the
_Flying Cloud_ was making as straight a wake again as though the best
helmsman in the ship had her in hand.

"Why, this is _splendid_!" exclaimed Ned.  "You are evidently a born
helmsman--or _helmswoman_, rather--Miss Stanhope.  Permit me to
congratulate you on your success.  Not a man in the ship could do better
than you are now doing.  I foresee that, before long, whenever any extra
fine steering has to be done, we shall have to request you to take the
wheel."

"Thank you; that is a very neatly turned compliment," remarked Sibylla.
"But I am afraid I do not wholly deserve it.  For the last five minutes
I have been steering, not by the little sail up there, as you told me,
but by that small dark object right ahead.  It is so much easier--"

"Small dark object! where away?" interrupted Ned.  "Ah!  I see it.  Sail
ho! right ahead Mr Bryce," he reported to the chief-mate.

The mate, who was sitting smoking on a hen-coop, to leeward, close to
the break of the poop, rose slowly to his feet, walked to the weather
side of the deck, and, shading his eyes with his hand, looked ahead, but
was apparently unable to see anything.

"There she is, just over the weather cat-head!" exclaimed Ned, as he
placed himself in line with the mate.

"All right!  I see her," responded the mate, as he at length caught
sight of the small purple-grey spot on the south-western horizon, and he
sauntered back to his seat.

At this moment Captain Blyth made his appearance on the poop.  "Did I
hear a sail reported ahead, Mr Bryce?" he asked, as he reached the
poop.

"Very likely.  There _is_ one," answered the mate, without offering to
point her out.

Captain Blyth looked annoyed at this boorishness of speech and conduct,
but it was habitual with the mate--he apparently knew no better--the
skipper was becoming accustomed to it by this time, and, without
noticing it, he walked aft and said:

"Where is she, Ned?"

Ned pointed her out.

"Ah, yes," said the skipper.  "Is she coming this way, think you?"

"I should fancy not, sir," answered Ned.  "It was Miss Stanhope who
first sighted her; she has been steering by her for fully five minutes;
and had yonder ship been coming this way I think we should see her more
distinctly by this time than we do."

"I'll bet any money that it's the _Southern Cross_!" exclaimed the
skipper with animation.  "Get your glass, Ned, my boy, and slip up as
far as the fore royal-yard, and see what you can make of her.  I'll stay
here, meanwhile, and see that Miss Stanhope doesn't run away with the
ship."

And as Ned hurried away to execute his errand, Captain Blyth turned to
Sibylla and laughingly began to banter her upon her new accomplishment.

Active as a cat, Ned soon reached the royal-yard, upon which he
composedly seated himself, preparatory to bringing his telescope to bear
upon the stranger.  A little manoeuvring sufficed him to find her; but
she was so far away--quite fifteen miles--that he could make out nothing
beyond the fact that she was apparently a ship of about the same size as
the _Flying Cloud_.  He remained on his elevated perch watching her for
fully a quarter of an hour, a period long enough to satisfy him that
both ships were standing in the same direction, and then he descended.

"Well; what do you make of her?" demanded the skipper, as the lad joined
him on the poop.

Ned stated fully all that he had seen and all that he surmised--for a
sailor is often able to shrewdly guess at a great deal when he sees but
little; and when he had replied to the somewhat severe cross-examination
to which he was subjected, Captain Blyth reiterated his former opinion:

"It is the _Southern Cross_, for a cool hundred!  Mr Bryce"--to the
mate--"be good enough to muster the watch, sir, and see if you cannot
get those sails to set something less like so many bags than they are at
present."

There had been a pretty heavy shower earlier on in the evening, which
had sensibly stretched the new canvas, and now that it was again dry it
hung from the spars and stays, as the skipper had said, "like so many
bags"--a terrible eye-sore to a smart seaman--yet the mate had
apparently not noticed it; or, at all events, had made no attempt to
have the matter rectified.

Mr Bryce made no reply; but, rising nonchalantly from his seat, he went
slowly down the poop ladder and sauntered into the waist, where he came
to a halt, and shouted:

"For'ard, there! lay aft here, all hands, and take a pull upon these
sheets and halliards, will ye!"

"Confound the fellow!" muttered Captain Blyth.  "I told him to muster
_the watch_; and he must needs set all hands to work."

The men moved aft, very deliberately, clearly in no amiable mood at
being given such a job in the second dog-watch, and began upon the main
tack and sheet, gradually working their way upward, and from thence
forward.

"What did I say, mates?" commented Williams, as they slowly brought the
canvas into better trim.  "This is the `old man's' work--this swigging
away upon sheets and halliards just upon night-fall; and there he is
upon the poop looking as black as thunder, because, I suppose, we're not
more lively over the job.  And what's it all for?  Why, simply because
that young sprig, Ned, happens to sight a sail ahead of us; and because
we happen to be a smart ship the skipper won't be satisfied until we've
overhauled her.  This is just the beginning of it; it'll be like this
every time we happen to see anything ahead; you mark my words."

"D'ye twig the new helmsman?" laughed another, jerking his head aft to
direct attention to Sibylla, who still held the wheel.

"Ay, ay, mate; we see her," answered Williams, who seemed to think
himself called upon to play the part of spokesman.  "We see her; and a
pretty creature she is.  But do you think, mates, she'll ever give any
of _us_ a spell when it's our trick?  Not she!  It's all very well when
it's a smart young sprig of an apprentice--or midshipman, as they call
themselves--that she can laugh and talk with; but it's a different
matter with us poor shell-backs.  The swells won't have anything to say
to _its_."

"Now, you're wrong there, Josh, old shipmate, as I can testify," spoke
up Jack Simpson, a smart young A.B.  "Mrs Henderson and Mrs Gaunt has
both spoke to me; and it was only a night or two ago that, when it was
my wheel, Mr Gaunt gived me a cigar; and a precious good one it was
too, I can tell ye."

"Ay; and I suppose when he handed it to you he made you feel as if you
was a dog that he was giving a bone to; didn't he?" said Williams.

"No, he didn't; not by a long ways," answered Jack.  "He looked and
spoke like a thorough-bred gentleman; but he was as perlite and civil as
ever a man could be."

"Civil!" grunted Rogers.  "Well, I don't make no account of that; it's
his business to be civil.  He's what they calls a civil engineer; though
hang me if I know what an engineer wants aboard of a sailing ship."

"How come _you_ to know he's a civil engineer?" demanded another man.

"Because, d'ye see, mate," replied Rogers, "I was one of the hands as
was told off to pass the dunnage up when the passengers came alongside;
and I read on one of the boxes `Mr William Gaunt, C.E.'  The mate saw
it, too; and he says to the skipper, as was standin' close alongside of
him, says he:--

"`Mr William Gaunt, C.E.'--what does C.E. stand for?  And the skipper,
he says: `What, don't you know?  Why, C.E. stands for Civil Engineer,
which is the gentleman's purfession,' says he.  And that's how I come to
know it, matey."

"Well, civil or not civil, I maintain he ain't a bit better than any of
us," insisted Williams; "and I want to know by what right he or anybody
else is to be allowed to give themselves airs over the likes of us.  Can
he do anything that any of us can't do?  Answer me that if you can," he
demanded defiantly.

"Ay, that can he, my lad," spoke up Parsons, promptly.  "Why, he's one
of them people that builds railroads and bridges and harbours, and the
likes of that.  Civil engineers is among a sailor's best friends,
shipmates.  Look at the scores of snug harbours they've built where
there was nothing but open roadsteads before.  There's Colombo, for
instance.  Look what a snug spot they've made of that.  Why, mates, I
was lying at Colombo once before that harbour was built, and we had to
keep watch and watch all the time we was there, just the same as if we
was at sea, just to take care that the ship didn't strike adrift and go
ashore.  And now, look at the place!  Why, you're moored head and starn;
and some ships don't keep even so much as an anchor watch all the time
they're there.  Don't tell me!  A civil engineer's a man of eddication,
boys; and that's where he goes to wind'ard of chaps like us.  Look at
the skipper, again.  Any one of us could take him up and toss him over
the rail, so far as hard work's concerned.  But you give him his charts,
and chronometers, and sextants, and things; put him aboard of a ship,
and tell him to take her clear round the world and bring her back again
to the same place, _and he can do it_.  Why?  Eddication again.  It's
_eddication_, mates, that makes swells of men, that enables 'em to earn
big pay, and makes 'em of consequence in the world.  There'll be no such
thing as equality in this world, Josh, as long as one man lets another
get ahead of him in the matter of eddication.  Them's my sentiments."

And Parsons was right, lads.  Simple, homely, and unpolished as was his
language, he had succeeded in giving utterance to a grand truth; one
which all boys will do well to lay to heart and profit by to the utmost
extent of their opportunities.

It occupied the men fully until eight bells to get the canvas trimmed to
Captain Blyth's satisfaction; after which the watch below retired to the
forecastle and to their hammocks.

During the night the wind freshened somewhat, hauled a trifle, and came
a point or two free, in consequence of which, when the passengers made
their appearance on deck next morning to get a breath or two of the
fresh sea air before breakfast, they found the ship bowling along at a
regular racing pace, with weather braces checked, sheets eased off, and
every possible studding-sail set on the weather side.  The strange sail
was in sight, and still ahead--a shade on the _Flying Cloud's_ lee-bow,
if anything--but the distance between the two ships had been reduced to
something like nine miles.  Like the _Flying Cloud_, the stranger was
covered with canvas from her trucks down; and it was evident, from the
circumstance of her still being ahead, that she was a remarkably fast
vessel.  Captain Blyth had been on deck from shortly after sunrise, and,
notwithstanding a somewhat windy look in the sky, had himself ordered
the setting of much of the additional canvas which his ship now carried.
After getting matters in this direction to his mind, he had gone up
into the fore-top with his telescope and spent fully half an hour there
inspecting the stranger; and when he descended and met his passengers on
the poop, he announced that though still too far distant to permit of
actual identification, he was convinced that his first supposition was
correct, and that the stranger ahead was none other than the _Southern
Cross_.

"And he knows us, too," he added with a chuckle; "recognised us at
daybreak, and at once turned-to and set his stunsails.  But let him,
ladies and gentlemen; we have the heels of him in this weather, and
we'll be abreast of him in time to exchange numbers before sunset to-
night."

In this assertion, however, Captain Blyth proved to be reckoning without
his host; for as the morning wore on the breeze freshened considerably,
obliging him to clew up and furl his skysails one after the other, and
then his royals, which seemed to give the leading ship an advantage.
For, whilst by noon the distance between the two vessels had been
reduced to about seven miles, after that hour the stranger was, by the
aid of Captain Blyth's sextant, conclusively proved to be holding her
own.  It was an exciting occasion for all hands; the passengers entering
fully into the spirit of the time and exciting Captain Blyth's warmest
admiration by the sympathetic interest with which they listened over and
over again to his story of the long-standing rivalry existing between
himself and the skipper of the _Southern Cross_, with its culmination in
the bet of a new hat upon the result of the passage then in progress.
Mr Gaunt even went so far as to unpack his own sextant--an
exceptionally fine instrument--and to spend most of the time between
luncheon and dinner on the topgallant forecastle, in company with the
skipper, measuring the angle between the stranger's mast-heads and the
horizon.  Sometimes this angle grew a few seconds wider, showing the
_Flying Cloud_ to be gaining a trifle, then it lessened again; but when
dinner was announced the two enthusiasts were reluctantly compelled to
admit that, if gain there was on their side, it did not amount to more
than a quarter of a mile.

Captain Blyth, however, though somewhat crestfallen at the non-
fulfilment of his boast, was still confident in the powers of the ship;
but the weather, he explained, had been rather against them that day,
the wind had been just a trifle too strong for the _Cloud_ to put out
her best paces, whilst it had been all in favour of the other and more
powerful ship.  But the wind had continued to haul during the day,
working more round upon the weather quarter with every hour that passed,
and he was of opinion that they had caught the trades; the sky looked
like a "trades'" sky, and, if his opinion proved correct, he anticipated
that as the wind hauled further aft, so would the _Flying Cloud_
decrease the distance between herself and her antagonist.



CHAPTER FOUR.

A MEETING IN MID-OCEAN.

Mr Bryce, the chief-mate of the _Flying Cloud_, was one of those
unfortunate men who are always more or less in an ill humour.  He was,
like poor Mrs Gummidge, "contrairy," and so disputatious that it was
almost impossible for anyone to make a statement that he would not
either deny outright or strive to prove fallacious.  He had a permanent
quarrel with Fate, which he considered had not treated him in accordance
with his high deserts; but as Fate was rather too intangible for him to
satisfactorily vent his spleen upon it, he made his fellow creatures
Fate's substitute, and never missed an opportunity to vent his spleen
upon them instead.  And, as he was a vulgar, surly, ill-bred fellow, he
was able to make himself excessively disagreeable when he seriously set
about the attempt, as he did when he discovered Captain Blyth's anxiety
to overhaul the ship ahead.  He did not--he _dared_ not--set himself in
opposition to the skipper, because that would have made matters
unpleasant for himself; but he promptly saw that, by affecting to share
the captain's anxiety, he could at one and the same time inflict great
annoyance upon him and a large amount of unnecessary labour upon the
crew, or at least upon that portion of it which constituted the larboard
watch.  Luckily for this watch it happened that they had to do deck duty
only from midnight until four o'clock a.m. on this particular night, so
Mr Bryce had only four hours in which to worry them.  But during that
four hours he did it most thoroughly.  His first act on taking charge of
the deck at midnight was to glance aloft, then he looked into the
binnacle, after which he walked forward and had a look for the _Southern
Cross_.  That ship, or at least the ship which Captain Blyth averred to
be the _Southern Cross_, was just discernible, a faint dark blot upon
the star-lit sky; but in that imperfect light it was quite impossible to
say whether she was gaining or being gained upon.  The chief-mate,
however, affected to believe the former, and exclaiming, loud enough for
the men to hear him:

"Tut, tut, this will never do! the stranger is walking away from us, and
the skipper will make a pretty fuss in the morning," he there and then
began forward with the flying-jib, and made the watch sweat up every
halliard throughout the ship, and the same with the sheets of the square
canvas.  Then, the wind having hauled still further aft, a pull was
taken upon all the weather braces; the jib, staysail, and trysail sheets
were next eased up a trifle; and, finally, all three skysails were set,
only to be clewed up and furled again just before the expiration of the
watch.  This kept the men pretty busy for the greater part of their four
hours on deck, highly exasperating them--which was what the mate
intended to do--and producing a general fit of grumbling among them, for
which he cared not one iota.

Whether Mr Bryce's excessive zeal was productive of good results or not
it is scarcely possible to say--the alterations he effected in the set
of the canvas were so trifling that, with the ship running off the wind,
it is probable they were not--but, be this as it may, the fact remains
that at daylight next morning the stranger, still ahead, had been neared
to within about four miles.

Captain Blyth, as might be expected, was on deck early that morning--
before, in fact, the watch had begun to wash down the decks--and,
observing that the stranger was carrying skysails, he immediately
ordered his own to be set, the sails, small as they were, being capable
of doing good service now that the wind was so far aft.  He was in the
most amiable of humours; for not only was he getting a trifle the best
in the race, but the look of the sky was such as to convince him that he
had undoubtedly caught the north-east trades, and that he was therefore
certain of a good run at least as far as the line.  His enthusiasm at
the breakfast-table became almost wearisome, though his passengers
listened to him with the most indulgent good-nature; but it was a
distinct relief to them when he rose from the table to superintend on
deck the setting of the larboard studding-sails, which had now become
possible through the wind drawing dead aft.

This change of wind was slightly disadvantageous to both ships, much of
the fore-and-aft canvas becoming useless, whilst even the square canvas
on the foremast was partially becalmed by that on the main; but it soon
became evident that, relatively, the _Flying Cloud_ was a gainer by it,
the distance between the two ships now lessening perceptibly.  By noon
they were separated by a space of barely half a mile, by which time the
identity of the stranger had been established beyond all doubt.  Captain
Blyth hastened, therefore, to get and work up his meridian altitude,
hoisted his ensign at the peak, and, as both ships appeared to be
steering admirably, proceeded to edge down within hailing distance of
the _Southern Cross_.

By half an hour after noon the two ships were abreast of each other, and
divided by a space of little more than a hundred feet of water.  The
passengers--of whom the _Southern Cross_ carried twenty in her saloon--
were mustered, in their fine-weather toggery, on the poops of the two
ships, eyeing each other curiously at intervals, but chiefly intent upon
the impending ceremony of "speaking," the two captains having
established themselves in their respective mizen-rigging.  At length,
when the two craft were as close to each other as it was prudent to take
them, Captain Blyth took off his cap, bowed, and said:

"Good-morning, Captain Spence!  This is a pleasant surprise for us; we
scarcely hoped to see you before reaching Melbourne.  What has happened
to detain you on the way?"

"Good-morning, Captain Blyth!  I am very glad we have fallen in with
each other so early in the voyage," answered Captain Spence.  "I have
been looking out for you during the last three or four days, for, with
such very fine weather as we have had lately, I expected you would
completely outsail us.  How has the wind been with you?  We have had it
light and shy, so far, during the entire voyage, except for the little
slant we got down channel on our first day out."

"Ah, yes!" remarked Captain Blyth; "you had the advantage of us there.
We had to beat the whole way from the Foreland to the Start."

"An advantage which is more than counterbalanced by your beautiful model
and your brand-new canvas," observed Spence.  "Our sails are so worn and
thin that we can almost see through them; the wind goes through them
like water through a sieve.  But I am just about to shift them for a new
suit, when I hope we shall be able to keep company with you at least as
far as the line, where, if, as is most probable, we fall in with calms,
I hope you and your passengers will do me the favour to come on board
and dine with us."

"That we will, with the greatest pleasure; and you and your passengers
will, I hope, favour us with a return visit--_if, when you have bent
your new canvas, you do not run away from us altogether_," retorted
Blyth.  "Meanwhile," he continued, raising his voice as the _Flying
Cloud_ drew gradually ahead of the _Southern Cross_, "I am afraid we
must say good-bye for the present, as we seem to be slipping past you."

With this parting shot Captain Blyth again raised his cap politely, and
stepped down out of the rigging on to a hen-coop, and from thence to the
poop; and so the little verbal sparring match between the rival skippers
ended, each flattering himself that he had had the best of it, and that
he had come out well in the eyes of the little audience before which he
had been performing.

One thing, however, was certain, the _Southern Cross_ had sailed twenty-
four hours before her rival, and had by that rival been overtaken and
passed--fairly outsailed; and whether Captain Spence's somewhat laboured
explanation of this circumstance satisfied his passengers or not, it
assuredly did not satisfy himself.  He was fain to confess--to himself--
that the hitherto invincible _Southern Cross_ had at length been
subjected to the ignominy of defeat.  The thought was unendurable; there
could be no more happiness for him until the stain had been wiped from
his tarnished laurels.  And to do this with the least possible loss of
time he at once went about the task of shifting his canvas, for which,
as the ship was now running dead before the wind, he could not have a
better opportunity.  It was a heavy task, and all hands were set to work
upon it, the steerage passengers--ay, and some of the gentlemen in the
saloon also--so far identifying their own interests with that of the
ship as to volunteer their services in the pulling and hauling part of
the work, which enabled the skipper to send two strong gangs aloft.  But
it was all of no use--just then, at least.  The fact was that the older
suit of canvas was not nearly so unserviceable as Captain Spence chose
to consider it, and the substitution of the new suit was therefore
without appreciable effect--the result being that when night closed down
upon the little comedy the people on board the _Southern Cross_ had the
mortification of seeing the rival ship hovering on the very verge of the
horizon ahead of them.

On board the _Flying Cloud_, on the other hand, apart from her commander
there was no very great amount of enthusiasm.  The passengers were
merely placidly satisfied at having outsailed a notoriously fast vessel;
whilst the mates and crew were, or affected to be, supremely indifferent
to the circumstance.  Captain Blyth, however, made ample amends in his
own person for the indifference of everybody else.  He was simply
exultant.  Whatever might happen in the future, nothing could rob him of
the right to boast that he had beaten the _Southern Cross_ in a fair
trial of sailing, with the two ships side by side.  And with regard to
the future, also, he was tolerably sanguine.  It had been conclusively
demonstrated that the _Flying Cloud_ was the faster ship of the two
before the wind and in ordinary trades weather, which weather he could
now depend upon until he reached the region of the calms about the line;
and it was also possible that, walking away from the _Southern Cross_ at
his present rate, he might get a slant across the calm belt which the
other ship would miss, and a consequent start from thence into the
south-east trades of nobody could say how many days.  And if the worst
came to the worst and he were overtaken in the calm belt, the two ships
would at least make a fair start of it again from the line, when he was
not without hopes that the extraordinary weatherliness of his own ship
would enable him to keep the advantage already won.  So that, looking at
the matter in all its bearings, he was not only fully satisfied with the
past and present, but hopeful for the future.  At the same time, knowing
by his recent experience how hard a ship to beat was the _Southern
Cross_, he fully realised that he must neglect no means within his power
to secure to himself the victory.  Nor did he.  Had his life and fortune
both been staked on the result of the race, he could scarcely have
manifested more eagerness.  Indeed, he rather overdid it, imperilling
his spars by carrying a heavy press of canvas up to the last moment
possible; which, as the north-east trades happened to be blowing rather
fresh, involved a great deal of clewing up, hauling down, furling, and
subsequently re-setting of his lighter sails, and a consequent amount of
extra work for the crew which was anything but to their taste.

A week passed thus; but on the seventh day following that on which the
_Southern Cross_ had been spoken, and within an hour or two of the time
when the skipper, having worked up his meridian altitude of the sun, had
expressed to his passengers a confident hope that they would have
crossed the line by the time that they retired that night, the wind
began to fail them, and by eight bells in the afternoon watch the ship
was lying motionless on a sea the surface of which was smooth as
polished glass, save for the undulations of the ground-swell which came
creeping up to them from the northward and eastward.  The sky was hazy
but without a cloud, and the temperature of the motionless atmosphere
was almost unbearably oppressive, the pitch melting out of the deck-
seams and adhering to the shoe-soles even beneath the shelter of the
awning which was spread over the poop.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," said Captain Blyth as he joined his
passengers at the dinner-table that evening, "here we are in the
Doldrums, fast enough, and no mistake.  The nor'-east trades brought us
so close up to the line that I was in hopes they'd be accommodating
enough to carry us over it.  However, we mustn't grumble.  We're within
sixty miles of the Equator, whilst on my last outward voyage I was left
becalmed close upon two hundred miles to the nor'ard of it.  And we're
not alone in our misery; I counted no less than fifteen sail in sight
from the deck just before dark, but I couldn't make out the _Cross_
among 'em.  I am in hopes of getting a start across and into the south-
easters before she comes up."

"How far astern do you think she is just now, captain?" asked Mrs
Henderson.

"Not an inch less than one hundred and fifty miles, ma'am," answered the
skipper.  "And if she brings the trades as far down with her as we've
done--which is doubtful--she can't reach the spot sooner than nine
o'clock to-morrow evening.  So we've twenty-six hours the start of her
now, and I'm going to do my best to keep it."

The saloon was far too hot for the passengers to hold their usual
concert there that evening; they therefore adjourned to the deck, and
lounged there to the latest possible moment.  It was a glorious night--
brilliant star-light with a young moon--the combined light enabling them
to just dimly make out here and there the hull and sails of one or
another of their companions in misfortune, the side-lights, green or red
according to the position of the vessel, gleaming brightly and throwing
long, wavering, tremulous lines of colour along the polished surface of
the water.  On board one of these vessels, about a mile distant, someone
was playing a concertina--very creditably, too--and singing a favourite
forecastle ditty to its accompaniment; and it was surprising how softly
yet clearly the sounds were conveyed across the intervening space of
water.  Singing and playing was also going on among the more distant
ships; but the sounds were too far removed to create the discord which
would have resulted had they been near enough to mingle.

On board the _Flying Cloud_ all was silent save for the persistent
"whistling for a breeze" in which Captain Blyth indulged, mingled with
the rustle and flap of the canvas overhead, and the patter of the reef-
points occasioned by the pendulum-like roll of the ship.  The water was
highly phosphorescent; and the two children, carefully looked after by
Mr Gaunt, were delightedly watching from the taffrail the streams of
brilliant stars and haloes produced by the gentle swaying movement of
the ship's stern-post and rudder, when far down in the liquid crystal a
dim moon-like radiance was seen, which increased in intensity and
gradually took form as it rose upwards until it floated just beneath the
surface, its nature fully confessed by the luminosity which enveloped it
from snout to tail--an enormous shark!  It remained under the ship's
counter, lazily swimming to and fro athwart the ship's stern, just long
enough to allow the rest of the passengers to get a good sight of it,
when it suddenly whisked round and darted off at a tremendous pace
toward one of the other ships, leaving a long trailing wake of silver
light behind it.  A moment later, the sound of a heavy splash at some
distance was heard; and whilst the little group of horrified spectators
on board the _Flying Cloud_ were still speaking of the terrible aspect
presented by the monster a shout and a shrill piercing scream came
floating across the water, followed by more shouting and sounds as of
the hasty lowering of a boat.

"Hark!  What can that mean?" ejaculated Mrs Gaunt.

"Sounds as though there was something wrong aboard the barque yonder,
sir," reported one of the men to the chief-mate.  (Captain Blyth
happened to be below at the moment.)

"Well, it's no business of ours if there is," answered Mr Bryce, not
attempting to move from his seat.

"Did you ever know such a brute as that man is?" whispered Mrs Gaunt to
Miss Stanhope.

"Never," was the reply.  "That I am free from any further association
with him will be my most pleasant reflection when I leave the ship."

The flash of oars in the phosphorescent water showed that a boat had
been lowered from the barque, and she could be faintly seen pulling
about for some time afterwards; but at length she returned to the ship.
The cheep of the tackle-blocks could be heard as she was hoisted up, and
that ended the incident for the night.

On running into the calm the _Flying Cloud_ had, of course, been
stripped of her studding-sails in order that she might be ready to meet
the light variable airs which were all she would have to depend upon to
help her across the calm belt; and about nine o'clock that evening one
of these little puffs, accompanied by a smart shower of rain, came out
from the westward, lasting nearly an hour, and enabling the little fleet
to make some four miles of progress on their several ways, some of the
vessels being bound north, whilst the others were making their way in
the opposite direction.

The following morning dawned with another flat calm; but that the crews
of the several ships had not been idle during the night was shown by the
scattered appearance of the fleet.  Six of the fifteen sail counted by
Captain Blyth on the previous evening were hull-down to the northward,
in which direction three more vessels had put in an appearance during
the hours of darkness; but these three were all in a bunch and about
twelve miles to the northward and westward of the _Flying Cloud_.  A
solitary sail had also hove up above the southern horizon during the
same period, and the remaining nine were scattered over an area of about
seven miles; the barque before referred to being nearest the _Flying
Cloud_, but a shade to the southward of her, showing how partial had
been the light airs encountered during the night.

About four bells in the forenoon watch, that day, a few light cats'-paws
were seen stealing over the surface of the water from the southward, and
the sails of the several vessels were properly trimmed to meet them.
The _Flying Cloud_ happened to be heading to the westward, whilst the
barque was heading east when the little breeze reached them, in
consequence of which the two vessels began to approach each other on
opposite tacks as soon as their canvas filled.  Captain Blyth had been
informed of the mysterious incident of the previous night on board the
barque, and he now announced his intention of speaking her if the breeze
lasted long enough to bring the two vessels within speaking distance.
It was at first doubtful if this would be the case, but when the two
vessels were within about a cable's-length of each other a somewhat
stronger puff came up, dying away again just as the _Flying Cloud_ was
slowly passing under the barque's stern.

The usual hails were exchanged, by means of which each captain was made
acquainted with the name, destination, port sailed from, number of days
out, and so on, of the other vessel (the barque turning out to be the
_Ceres_, of Liverpool, bound from that port to Capetown); and then
Captain Blyth continued:

"Was anything wrong on board you last night?  Some of my people thought
they heard some sort of a commotion in your direction."

"Yes," answered the skipper from the barque.  "I am grieved to say that
we lost one of our best men.  The poor, foolish fellow--unknown to me,
of course--took the notion into his head to jump overboard, with the
idea of swimming round the ship.  He jumped from the starboard cat-head,
and had very nearly completed his journey when he was seized by a shark
and carried off from under our very eyes, as it might be.  We lowered
the gig and gave chase, but the boat could not get near him, and at last
the fish dived, taking the man down with him, and we never saw any more
of either.  Good-bye! if we don't meet again I'll be sure to report you
when we get in!"

The vessels gradually drifted apart, and the short colloquy was brought
to a close.

"Good heavens, how horrible!" ejaculated Gaunt, turning to his fellow-
passengers, who, with himself, had heard the short history of the
tragedy.  "That must, undoubtedly, have been the identical shark we saw.
Being in the water he, of course, heard the plunge of the unfortunate
man before the sound reached our ears, and at once made off, as we saw,
in that direction.  How little we dreamed of the fatal errand on which
he was bound as we watched him disappear!  Truly, `in the midst of life
we are in death.'"

Shortly before noon a black, heavy, thunderous-looking cloud worked up
from the southward, and, when immediately over the ship, burst with a
tremendous downpour of rain, but with no wind.  Seeing that the fall was
likely to be heavy, Captain Blyth ordered a couple of studding-sails to
be opened out and spread to catch the water as it fell, and so copious
was the shower that not only did they succeed in completely refilling
all the tanks, but, by plugging up the scupper-holes the men were
actually enabled to enjoy the unwonted luxury of a thorough personal
cleansing in the warm soft water, and also to wash a change of clothing.
The ladies and children, had, of course, been driven below by the heavy
downpour; but they were not forgotten, Messrs. Henderson and Gaunt
taking care to promptly secure a sufficiency of water to afford each of
them the treat of a copious fresh-water bath.

Between sunrise and sunset that day, the _Flying Cloud_ contrived to
make nearly eight miles of southing, and a small slant of wind during
the night enabled her to make about fourteen more.  When morning dawned
they were again becalmed; but the sky was overcast, and it was evident
that a heavy thunder-squall was working up from the eastward, and
Captain Blyth was in hopes that when it came it would do them good
service.  He was on deck at daylight, eager to see if he could discover
any traces of the _Southern Cross_; and great was his jubilation when,
after a most careful scanning of the horizon from the main-topgallant-
yard, he failed to detect anything at all like her in sight.

By breakfast-time the aspect of the sky was so threatening that Captain
Blyth gave instructions to have all the lighter canvas taken in, leaving
the ship under topsails, courses, fore-topmast staysail, jib, and mizen.
It was well that he took this precaution, for just as they sat down to
breakfast it began to thunder and lighten heavily, and about ten minutes
later, a terrific downpour of rain followed.  The rain suddenly ceased,
and the murky darkness of the atmosphere as suddenly gave place to a
vivid yellow light, a change which caused the skipper to spring to his
feet and rush out on deck without even the pretence of an apology to his
passengers for so abrupt a movement.  On reaching the deck his first
glance was to the eastward, the direction from which the light emanated,
and he then saw that the heavy veil of black cloud--which now completely
overspread the heavens--was in that quarter rent asunder, leaving a
great gap through which was revealed a momentarily increasing patch of
pale straw-coloured sky.  The water was every where black as ink save
beneath this livid streak, but there it presented the appearance of a
long line of snow-white foam advancing toward the ship with terrific
rapidity.

The second-mate, who was in charge of the deck, was standing on the poop
regarding this phenomenon with a doubtful expression of visage, which
gave place to one of unmistakable relief when he saw the skipper on
deck.

"That looks like a squall coming down, sir"--he began.  But Captain
Blyth had no time to attend to him just then; he saw that there was not
a moment to be lost, and turning his back unceremoniously upon Mr
Willoughby he shouted:

"Stand by your topsail-halliards here, the watch!  Hurry up, my lads, or
we shall lose the sticks!  Let run, fore and aft!"

The men, who saw what was coming, and had been expecting the call,
sprang at once to their stations, let go the halliards, and then helped
the revolving yards down by manning the topsail-clewlines, by which
means the three topsails were snugly close-reefed by the moment that the
squall burst upon them.  There was no time to do more or Captain Blyth
would have taken the courses off the ship.  As it was she had to bear
them; and so heavy was the squall that during its height the vessel was
compelled to run dead before it.  Her head was, however, brought to the
southward the moment that it was safe to do so, and away she went like a
frightened thing, tearing through the surges with her lee gunwale under.
The first fury of the squall was spent in about a quarter of an hour,
but it continued to blow with great violence until noon, when the gale
broke and the crew were able to take a pull of a few feet upon the
topsail-halliards.  By eight bells in the afternoon watch the ship was
under whole topsails once more, with a clear sea all round her and a
rapidly clearing sky; and at ten o'clock that same evening, when Captain
Blyth entered the saloon, after personally superintending the setting of
the topgallant-sails, he announced not only that there was every
prospect of a fine night and a steady breeze, but also that he believed
they had caught the south-east trades.



CHAPTER FIVE.

THE DERELICT BARQUE.

The next morning demonstrated the correctness of Captain Blyth's
surmise; for daylight found them with the breeze still steady at about
east by south, and so fresh that they were compelled to keep all their
skysails and the mizen-royal stowed.  Needless to say, everybody was
delighted at having slipped through the Doldrums so easily; even the
chief-mate almost allowed himself now and then to be betrayed into an
expression of dawning amiability; and, as for Captain Blyth, his
exuberance of spirits threatened at times to pass all bounds.  He
believed it quite impossible that the _Southern Cross_ could now cross
the line in less than three days, at least, after himself; and the way
in which the _Flying Cloud_, against a fair amount of head sea and on a
taut bowline, was steadily reeling off her eight, nine, and sometime
even ten knots per hour, with her really extraordinary weatherliness,
quite convinced him that he could beat his antagonist in any weather
which would permit him to show his topgallant-sails to it.

This state of general satisfaction and good humour was at its height,
when about ten o'clock on that same morning, a man who was at work on
the weather fore-topsail-yard-arm hailed the deck with:

"On deck, there!  There is a wreck, or something like it, broad on our
weather-beam, and about nine mile off."

Captain Blyth was on deck, and so was Ned; and the skipper immediately
ordered that young gentleman to go aloft with his glass to see if he
could make out the object.

Ned was soon in the main-topmast cross-trees, from which elevated stand-
point he was at once enabled to make out the whereabouts of the supposed
wreck with the naked eye, and he was not long in bringing his glass to
bear upon it.

"Well, Ned, my hearty," hailed the skipper, when the lad had been
working away in a puzzled manner with his telescope, "that you see
something is perfectly evident.  What d'ye make her out to be?"

"It is not very easy to say, sir," replied Ned.  "The light is so
dazzling in that quarter that I can see nothing but a dark patch; but it
looks more like a vessel on her beam-ends than anything else.  But, if
it is so, she is lying over so much that her sails are in the water."

"Phew!" whistled the skipper.  "We must have a look at her; it will
never do to leave a ship in such a fix as that.  Can you see any people
on board her, Ned?"

"No, sir," was the answer.  "But if there _are_ people on board it would
be impossible to make them out from our present position."

"No, no," muttered the skipper, "I don't suppose it would; of course
not.  Hark ye, Ned; just stay where you are, my lad, and let me know
when we have brought the wreck a good couple of points abaft our beam,
and in the meantime take a look round with your glass and see if you can
make out anything like a boat anywhere."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Ned, settling himself into a comfortable, easy
position in the cross-trees, somewhat to the secret trepidation of Miss
Stanhope, who was watching his movements with a great deal of
undemonstrative interest, and who every moment dreaded that the young
man's careless attitude, coupled with the pitching of the ship, would
result in a fall.  Nothing of the kind, however, happened; and in due
time Ned hailed:

"I think we can fetch her now, sir.  I can make her out much better than
I could a quarter of an hour ago; and I believe she _is_ a ship on her
beam-ends.  I can see nothing of boats in any direction, sir."

"Very well," replied Captain Blyth.  "Stay where you are, nevertheless,
and continue to keep a bright look-out.  We will tack the ship, if you
please, Mr Bryce."

"Ay, ay, sir.  Hands 'bout ship!" responded the chief-mate; and in a
minute or two the men were at their stations.

"All ready, sir!" reported Mr Bryce Captain Blyth walked aft to the
mizen-rigging, signed to the helmsman, and gave the word:

"Helm's a-lee!"

"Helm's a-lee," responded the men, lifting the coiled-up braces and so
on from the pins and throwing them down on the deck all ready for
running.

The ship shot handsomely up into the wind; and the word was given to
"raise tacks and sheets," quickly followed by the other commands; and in
a couple of minutes the _Flying Cloud_ was round and heading well up for
the wreck, whilst the crew bowsed down the fore and main tacks
simultaneously with the aid of a couple of watch tackles.

To the honour of Captain Blyth be it said that, though his interest in
the race between his own ship and the _Southern Cross_ was as ardent as
though his very life depended upon its result, not one single murmur
escaped him on account of this delay; for delay it certainly was.  No;
apart, perhaps, from the passengers, he of all on board betrayed the
most anxiety respecting the crew of the distressed vessel.

In an hour the _Flying Cloud_ was hove-to abreast and close to leeward
of the wreck, which proved to be a fine wooden barque, copper-bottomed,
on her beam-ends, as Ned had reported, with her masts lying prone in the
water.  There was no sign of any one on board her; nevertheless Captain
Blyth ordered one of the gigs to be lowered, and instructed Mr Bryce to
proceed to the wreck and give her a careful overhaul.  At Mr Gaunt's
own request that gentleman accompanied the mate.

The little party had some difficulty in boarding the derelict, for she
was lying broadside-on to the wind, with her masts pointing to windward;
and though there was no very great amount of sea running, there was
still sufficient to make boarding from to windward an awkward if not an
absolutely dangerous matter, in consequence of the raffle of spars and
cordage in the water.  But they succeeded at last; Mr Gaunt and the
mate contriving to gain a footing in the main-rigging, whilst the boat
with her crew backed off again out of harm's way.  The task of examining
the vessel, now that they were actually on board her, was even more
difficult and dangerous than that of boarding, the ship lying so far
over that her deck was perpendicular.  By getting out on her weather
side, however, and by means of ropes'-ends, they eventually succeeded in
penetrating first to the cabin, and then to the forecastle (both of
which were on deck); but in neither was there any one to be found.
There were, however, in the cabin, signs--such as open and partially
empty boxes and trunks, with articles of wearing apparel scattered
about--which seemed to indicate that the vessel had been very hurriedly
abandoned; and the state of these articles was such as to lead Mr Gaunt
to the conclusion that the abandonment had taken place within the
previous twenty-four hours.

Having so far completed their examination, the boat was signalled to
again approach, and a few minutes later the party found themselves once
more on the deck of the _Flying Cloud_, the chief-mate briefly reporting
that the barque was undoubtedly abandoned.

"Then," said Captain Blyth, hesitatingly, "I suppose there is nothing
more to be done but to hoist up the boat and fill away upon our course
again?"

"No; I suppose not, sir," replied Bryce, in a tone of voice which very
sufficiently indicated his supreme indifference.

"Very well," said the skipper, "man the--"

"Excuse me, Captain Blyth, but may I offer a suggestion?" interrupted
Mr Gaunt.

"Assuredly, my dear sir," responded the skipper; "what suggestion would
you offer?"

"Well," said Mr Gaunt, "if I may be permitted to say so, it seems a
great pity to leave that fine ship there, to be possibly run into by and
perhaps to occasion the loss of another ship; or, as an alternative, to
eventually founder.  So far as I could perceive, the hull is as sound
and tight as ever it was, and, by the way she floats, I do not believe
she has very much water in her; and with regard to her spars, her fore
and main-topgallant masts are snapped off short by the caps, which
appears to be about all the damage done in that direction.  Now, why
should you not right her, pump her out, man her, and send her into port?
If her cargo is valuable, as is likely to be the case, it would put a
handsome sum of salvage money into your pocket."

"So it would, sir," replied the skipper.  "I was thinking of that just
now, but couldn't exactly see how the thing is to be done; and as Mr
Bryce seemed to have no idea of any such thing, why I concluded it must
be impracticable."

"By no means, I should say," observed Mr Gaunt.  "We engineers, you
know, are constantly accomplishing things which other people would be
disposed to pronounce impossible; and I confess I see no great
difficulty in this case.  I believe the barque is only held down in her
present position by the weight of the water in her canvas."

Mr Gaunt then indicated to the skipper the means which he thought would
be likely to prove successful; and Captain Blyth, though somewhat
doubtful of the result, was sufficiently impressed to express his
willingness to try the experiment, Mr Gaunt volunteering--to his wife's
secret dismay--to assist by taking charge of a small working party on
board the derelict.

To work all hands accordingly went.  The gig once more shoved off for
the barque, which was boarded by the energetic engineer and four men,
who took with them a coil of light line, an axe, and, of course, their
clasp knives.  The little party got out on the weather side of the ship,
in the main-chains, uncoiled their line, and were then all ready to
commence operations.  The gig, meanwhile, returned to the ship, and
received on board a large but light new steel towing hawser, which was
coiled down in long flakes fore and aft the boat, and with this she once
more went alongside the barque, to leeward of her this time, however--
that is to say, alongside the vessel's upturned bilge.  A rope's-end was
hove into her by the little working party in the main-chains, and by
this means the end of the hawser was hauled on board, and, with some
labour and difficulty, eventually made fast round the mainmast head,
just above the truss of the main-yard.  This done, a signal was made to
the _Flying Cloud_, which had meanwhile drifted some distance away, and
the ship thereupon filled her main-topsail and bore up, waring short
round upon her heel.  At the same time the crew hauled up the courses,
clewed up royals and topgallant-sails, and, in short, reduced the canvas
to the three topsails, jib, and spanker.  She was now upon the larboard
tack.  Having stood on a sufficient distance, Captain Blyth went in
stays, and the ship was again headed for the barque.  Now came the only
delicate part of the operation.  But the skipper was an accomplished
seaman, and he managed his part of the work to perfection, bringing the
_Flying Cloud_ up alongside the barque so close to leeward that there
was only bare room for the boat between the two hulls; and at the proper
moment the main-topsail was backed and the way of the ship stopped.  A
rope's-end, to which the other end of the hawser was attached, was then
promptly hove from the boat alongside and smartly hauled inboard over
the ship's bows, and several turns of the hawser were taken round the
windlass-bitts.  Then, by carefully manipulating the canvas, the _Flying
Cloud_ was brought head to wind, or with her bows towards the derelict,
until, dropping to leeward all the time, the hawser was tautened out and
a strain brought upon it.  The topsails were then laid flat aback, and
the result was awaited with some anxiety; the boat meanwhile remaining
alongside the derelict to take off Mr Gaunt and his little party in the
event of any accident happening.  For a few minutes no visible result
attended these manoeuvres; but at length a shout from Mr Gaunt of
"Hurrah, there she rises!  Be ready to let go the hawser on board there
when I give the word" was followed by a barely perceptible indication
that the vessel was righting.  The movement increased; and then, still
gradually, the masts rose out of the water until they were at an angle
of about forty-five degrees with the horizon, when the vessel recovered
herself so suddenly that the little party on board had to cling on for
their lives or they would have been flung into the sea.  A heavy roll or
two followed, and the vessel then settled upon an even keel once more,
with the water pouring in torrents out of the canvas down on to the
deck, and wetting Mr Gaunt and his crew to the skin.  Captain Blyth was
personally superintending his share of the operations from the _Flying
Cloud's_ forecastle, and at the proper moment the end of the hawser was
cast off and let fly overboard, to be recovered later on by the gig.

The first thing the engineer now did was to heave-to the barque as well
as he could with his scanty crew; his next act was to sound the well,
with the result that a depth of five feet of water was found in the
hold.  This, however, was not so formidable a matter as it at first
sight appeared; for, the hold being tightly packed with cargo, the water
could only get into the interstices, and a comparatively small quantity
would consequently show a large rise in the pump-well.

A strong gang was now sent on board the barque, with the chief-mate in
command; and the pumps were at once manned.  A quarter of an hour's work
at these sufficed to show that the vessel was making no water (that
which was already in her having doubtless made its way in through the
top-sides and down the pump-well whilst the craft was on her beam-ends);
the men therefore went to work with a will, and by eight bells in the
afternoon watch it was reported that the ship was dry.

Mr Gaunt, meanwhile, made his way into the cabin as soon as the mate
took charge, and proceeded to give the place a general overhaul, with
the object of ascertaining who and what the vessel was.  He succeeded in
finding the log-book, log-slate, and the captain's desk, with all of
which he proceeded on board the _Flying Cloud_.  The articles were
placed in the hands of Captain Blyth, who forthwith sat down to examine
them, with the result that the barque was found to be the _Umhloti_ of
Aberdeen, her commander's name being Anderson.  She was from Port Natal,
bound to London, thirty-three days out when discovered; and her cargo
consisted of hides, ivory, indigo, coffee, sugar, and wool.  She was
therefore a very valuable find, well worth the time and trouble they
were devoting to her.  The last entry on the log-slate had been made at
eight o'clock on the previous morning; and the log-book had been
written-up as far as noon on the day preceding that.  Captain Blyth had
therefore no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that the vessel
must have been capsized in a very similar squall to that which had
struck the _Flying Cloud_ on the previous day, and at about the same
moment.  This surmise was confirmed by the fact that when Mr Gaunt had
entered the captain's state-room he had found the chronometers still
going, though nearly run down.  He had, of course, at once taken the
precaution to wind them afresh.

Having brought the pumps to suck, the next task of the men on board the
_Umhloti_ was to clear away and send down on deck the wreck of the fore
and main-topgallant masts, with all attached, a couple of hands being at
the same time deputed to give the store-room an overhaul to ascertain
whether the contents had been damaged or not by water.  Everything was
luckily found to be in perfect order there, the water not having risen
high enough in the hull to reach the lazarette.  This being found to be
the case, nothing now remained but to man the vessel and dispatch her on
her homeward way.

Captain Blyth had already thought out his plans in this direction.  And
when it was reported to him that the barque could part company at any
moment he went forward, and, mustering the steerage passengers, told
them he had not only observed their efforts to make themselves useful on
board, but had also noticed that those efforts had been crowned with a
very fair measure of success; he would now, therefore, ship the whole of
them for the passage, if they chose, paying them ordinary seamen's wages
from the commencement of the voyage.  So good an offer was not to be
lightly refused; and, after a few minutes' consultation together, the
men unanimously declared their willingness to accept it.  This made the
rest of the business quite plain sailing for the skipper; and, closing
with the _Umhloti_, he hailed Mr Bryce to say that he intended to send
him home in charge, and that he was to ascertain how many of the men
then with him would volunteer to return to England.  A crew of fourteen
hands, all told, was soon made up, Tim Parsons and two of the
apprentices being of the number; and just as night was closing down the
two vessels parted company, Captain Blyth, Ned, and the saloon
passengers taking advantage of the opportunity to send home letters to
their friends, the skipper taking the precaution to enclose them all in
his dispatch to his owners, lest Mr Bryce, in his indifference, might
neglect to post them.  It may as well be mentioned here that the
_Umhloti_ arrived safely in England about a fortnight later than the
passengers and crew who had abandoned her; and that the letters she
carried duly reached their destination.

The changes rendered necessary by this drafting off of so large a
proportion of her crew involved certain promotions on board the _Flying
Cloud_, in which promotion Ned, to his intense gratification, was made a
sharer, he being appointed acting second-mate _vice_ Mr Willoughby, who
was promoted to the post of chief, whilst Williams was made boatswain's-
mate.

The ship being now once more close-hauled, with the south-east trade-
wind blowing steadily, and only a very moderate amount of sea running.
Miss Stanhope regarded the occasion as propitious for the perfecting of
herself in the art of steering; and she accordingly practised with great
assiduity.  Ned, of course, by virtue of his promotion, was no longer
required to take his trick at the wheel--he was now the officer in
command of the starboard watch--but Sibylla did not allow that
circumstance to interfere in the least with her plans; on the contrary,
she rather made it subservient to them.  For, whereas she had before
been obliged to wait for her lesson until Ned's trick came round, she
now simply watched her opportunity, and whenever she saw that the young
man had nothing very particular to do, she would go up to him and say,
"Mr Damerell, is it convenient for you to give me a steering-lesson?"
Whereupon Ned would make a suitable response, and, accompanying the
young lady aft, would say to the helmsman "Here, Dick, or Tom, or
Harry", as the case might be, "go forward and do so and so; Miss
Stanhope wishes to give you a spell.  When she is tired I will let you
know, and you can come aft again and relieve her."  Upon which the
seaman, with an inward chuckle and much carefully suppressed jocularity,
would shamble away for'ard, fully convinced by past experience that he
need think no more about the wheel until his trick should again come
round.  By the time that the ship had run through the south-east trades,
Sibylla could steer her, when on a wind, as well as the best helmsman on
board; and, proud of her skill, she then began to long for the
opportunity to try her hand with the ship when going free.  This
opportunity came, of course, in due time; and, though the fair
helmswoman at first found the task far more difficult that she had ever
imagined it could possibly be, she soon developed such extraordinary
skill that Ned's prophecy at length became literally fulfilled, Captain
Blyth gradually getting into the way of turning to Miss Stanhope when
any exceptionally fine steering had to be done--as, for instance, when
some contumacious craft ahead persistently refused to be overhauled--and
saying, "I am afraid there is no resource but to invoke your aid, my
dear young lady; we shall never overtake yon stranger unless you will
oblige us with a few of your scientific touches of the wheel."
Whereupon Sibylla, looking very much gratified, would make some laughing
reply, and forthwith take the wheel, keeping the bows of the _Flying
Cloud_ pointing as steadily for the strange sail as though they had been
nailed there, always with the most satisfactory result.

It was perhaps only a natural consequence of Ned's assiduous "coaching"
of Miss Stanhope in the helmsman's art that the formal relations usually
subsisting between passengers and officer should to a certain extent
have given place to a kind of companionship, almost amounting to
_camaraderie_, between these two young people.  The seamen were almost,
if not quite, as quick as their skipper in detecting what was going
forward; and it is not very surprising that, with their love of romance,
they should forthwith regard the handsome young mate and his pupil as
the hero and heroine of an interesting little drama.  This view of the
affair afforded the men for'ard intense gratification.  Ned was
exceedingly popular with them; and the tars regarded the conquest with
which they so promptly credited him almost as a compliment to
themselves, and a triumph to which each might claim to have contributed,
even though in ever so slight and indirect a way.  It will be seen later
on that this fancy on the part of the crew was the means of placing
Sibylla in a most trying situation.

A few days later a sad fatality occurred.  The ship was somewhat to the
eastward of the Cape, going nine knots, with her topgallant-sails
furled, the wind blowing very fresh from the northward, and a
tremendously heavy swell running.  Captain Blyth, the mate, and Ned were
all on the poop, busy with their sextants, the hour being near noon,
when, the ship giving a terrific lee-roll, Mr Willoughby lost his
balance, and, gathering way, went with a run to leeward.  Whether the
accident was due to the poor man's anxiety to preserve his sextant from
damage or not can never be known, but certain it is that, from some
cause or other, he failed to bring up against the light iron protective
railing which ran round the poop, overbalancing himself instead, and
falling headlong into the water.

A shriek from the ladies, who witnessed the accident, and the shout of
"Mate overboard!" from the helmsman caused the skipper and Ned to lay
their instruments hurriedly down on deck and run aft to the lee quarter,
where the first thing they saw was the unfortunate man's hat tossing on
the crest of a sea about a dozen yards astern.

"He can't swim a stroke," exclaimed Ned to the skipper; and then, before
the latter could stop him, the gallant fellow took a short run, and
plunged headlong into the foaming wake of the ship.

"Down helm!" exclaimed the skipper to the man at the wheel, springing at
the same time to the lee main-brace, which he let fly.  The men forward,
meanwhile, having heard the cry of "Mate overboard," rushed aft to the
braces, and in another minute the ship was hove-to, with her mainsail in
the brails.

This done, Williams, who was perhaps the keenest sighted man in the
ship, sprang into the mizen-rigging, and, making his way with incredible
rapidity into the top, stood looking in the direction where he expected
to see the two men.

"D'ye see anything of them, Williams?" shouted the skipper.

"Yes, sir; I can see _one_ of them," was the reply; "but which one it is
I can't tell.  It must be Ned though, I think, for he seems to be
swimming round and round, as though looking for the mate."

"Keep your eye on him, my man; don't lose sight of him for a single
instant!" shouted the captain.  Then, turning to the men, who were
clustered together on the poop, he exclaimed: "Now then, men, what are
you thinking about!  Out with the boat, my hearties; and be smart about
it!"

The men moved to the tackles and threw the falls off the pins down on to
the deck, talking eagerly together meanwhile; then one of them turned,
and, stepping up to the skipper, said:

"Who is to go in the boat, sir?  I must say I don't care about the job;
and the others say the same.  We don't believe we could get away from
the ship's side in such a sea as this."

Captain Blyth stamped on the deck in his vexation and despair.  It was
only too true; the boat would to a certainty be stove and swamped if any
such attempt were made; and that would mean the loss of more lives.
What was to be done?  Leave two men to perish he would not, if there was
any possible means of saving them.

"Can you still see either of them, Williams?" hailed the captain.

"Yes, sir; I can still see the one I saw at first; but not the other,"
was the reply.

"We _must_ pick him up, if possible," exclaimed the skipper.  "Up helm,
my man; hard up with it.  Man the main-braces, and fill the topsail!"

At this juncture Sibylla, who had not heard the first part of the
skipper's speech, stepped up to Captain Blyth, ashy pale, and gasped:

"What are you going to do, captain?  Is it possible you are going to be
inhuman enough to leave that poor fellow there _to die_?"

"No, my dear," was the answer.  "I am going to save him, if it is in
human power to do so.  You go below, now, like a good girl, and persuade
the others to go too; this is no sight for a woman to look upon."

But Sibylla could no more have gone below than she could have flown.
She walked aft, and stood at the taffrail with tightly-clasped hands and
starting eyes, looking eagerly astern, her whole body quivering with an
agony of impatience at what seemed to her the tardy movements of the
ship.

As a matter of fact, however, the _Flying Cloud_ had never proved
herself more handy, or been worked more smartly than on that precise
occasion; had she been sentient she could scarcely have yielded to her
commander's will more readily than she did.  Keeping broad away until
she had good way on her the skipper watched his opportunity, and,
signing to the helmsman, the wheel was put over, and the ship flew up
into the wind, tacking like a yacht, Williams at the same time making
his way up on to the royal-yard, in order that the main-topsail might
not interfere with his range of vision.  In effecting this change of
position, notwithstanding his utmost care, he contrived to lose sight of
the diminutive speck on the surface of the water; and when Captain Blyth
again hailed, asking him if he still saw it, he was compelled to answer
"No."  An anxious search of about a minute, however--a minute which
seemed an age to Sibylla--enabled him to hit it off once more, and he
joyously hailed the deck to say that the person--whoever it might be--
was still afloat and broad on the lee-bow.

"Keep her away a couple of points," commanded Captain Blyth; "and pass
the word for the boatswain to muster all the light heaving-line he can
lay his hands upon.  Range yourselves fore and aft along the lee
bulwarks, my lads, and let each one stand by to heave a rope's-end with
a standing bowline in it as soon as we get near enough.  How does he
bear now, Williams?"

"Straight ahead, sir.  Luff, or you will be over him!  It is Ned, sir."

"Luff!" said the skipper.  "Man the main-braces, some of you, and stand
by to heave the main-yard aback."

Captain Blyth then sprang upon a hen-coop, and peered eagerly out ahead.

"I see him!" he eagerly exclaimed at last.  "Back your main-topsail.
Luff, my lad; luff and shake her!  So, well there with the main-braces,
belay all; and stand by fore and aft with your ropes'-ends.  Look out,
for'ard there; now _heave_!  Missed him, by all that's clumsy!  Try you,
the next man.  Missed again; line not long enough.  Steady, men, steady,
or you'll lose him yet.  Now, look out, Ned, my lad!  Heave, boatswain,
and let us see what you can do.  _Well_ hove!  Pay out the line, pay out
smartly--ha! lost it.  Tut! tut! this will _never_ do.  Well done! he
has it this time!  Let him slip it over his shoulder; that's well.
_Now_ haul in--handsomely, my lads--and mind you don't lose him."

Half a minute more and poor Ned, gasping for breath, speechless, and too
exhausted to stand upright, was dragged triumphantly up over the side
and seated on the deck, where, of course, all hands instantly crowded
around him.  Doctor Henderson, however, promptly interfered, and, taking
charge of the patient, was soon able to pronounce that, barring
exhaustion, the poor fellow was all right; upon which the anxious little
crowd dispersed, Sibylla retiring to her state-room, locking herself in,
and gaining relief to her overwrought feelings by abandoning herself to
a perfect tempest of hysterical tears.

Under the doctor's skilful treatment Ned was soon sufficiently restored
to answer a few questions, when he stated that though he had remained
continuously on the watch from the moment of his rising above the
surface after his first plunge to almost the moment of his being picked
up, he had never caught a single glimpse of the mate, and that it was
his impression the unfortunate man must have been hurt in his fall, and
that he had never risen above water again.  Notwithstanding this
statement the ship was kept hove-to for another half-hour, with a man on
the look-out on each topgallant-yard; when, nothing having been seen of
the missing man during that time, Captain Blyth reluctantly gave up the
search, and, wearing round, the ship once more proceeded on her voyage.



CHAPTER SIX.

THE SPRINGING OF THE MINK.

The deplorable fatality mentioned in the last chapter necessitated a
further rearrangement of the official duties on board the _Flying
Cloud_; Ned being advanced still another step and made acting chief-
mate, or "chief-officer" as it is the custom to dub this official in the
merchant service, whilst another apprentice--a very quiet, steady young
man named Robert Manners--was promoted to the post of second-mate thus
rendered vacant.  Although these two posts--the most important and
responsible in the ship next to that of the master--were now filled by
two young men whose united ages fell short of forty years, the
arrangement appeared to work in the most thoroughly satisfactory manner.
The lads performed their onerous duties efficiently; the crew were as
orderly and obedient as heretofore, and not a single sinister omen or
indication manifested itself to arouse anxiety in the mind of the
skipper.  To add to Captain Blyth's satisfaction, the island of New
Amsterdam was sighted and passed on the morning of the tenth day
succeeding the loss of the unfortunate Mr Willoughby, and that, too, in
a direction and at an hour which precisely verified the prediction of
the captain, who rather prided himself upon his skill and accuracy as a
navigator.

For several nights previous to this occurrence the skipper had been
losing a great deal of rest; he had been too anxious to sleep, knowing
that during his absence from the deck the ship was in absolute charge of
one or the other of two lads whom he remembered, as though it had been
but yesterday, joining him without a particle of experience.  But as day
after day, and night after night passed, and he saw what excellent use
those two lads had made of the training and instruction he had so
conscientiously bestowed upon them, he had gradually grown less anxious.
And now, with fine weather, a fair breeze, and New Amsterdam sighted
and passed, the poor fagged skipper once more knew what it was to enjoy
an easy mind; and as he bade Ned "good-night" on the poop, about five
bells in the first watch, he announced, in tones loud enough to be
distinctly heard by the man at the wheel, that he intended to treat
himself to a whole night's sleep, and that he was not to be called or
disturbed unless for something out of the common.

When, therefore, about three o'clock next morning, he was aroused from
sleep by a gentle tap at the outer door of his state-room, Captain
Blyth's first coherent thought was: "I wonder what is the matter now!"
It was nothing to do with the weather--unless the sky had assumed a
threatening aspect--for, by long force of habit, he had acquired the
power of detecting, even during his soundest sleep, any such important
change in the state of the elements as a material increase of wind or
sea, and, though the sleep from which he had been aroused was as sound
as it ever falls to the lot of a seaman to enjoy, he had been quite
conscious all the time that neither the sough of the wind in the rigging
nor the steady swinging motion of the ship had become intensified.  It
was, therefore, in a somewhat peevish tone that he inquired:

"Well, what is the news?"

"Will you please step for'ard, sir, and see what ails Bob--young Mr
Manners, I mean, sir?" said a voice which the skipper recognised as
belonging to one of the seamen.  "He's on the fo'c's'le-head, a cussing
and carrying on as if he was mad, sir; and two of the hands is holding
him down so's he sha'n't fling hisself overboard."

"Whew!" whistled poor Captain Blyth in dismay.  "All right, my man; I'll
be out there in a brace of shakes!  What can be the matter with the poor
lad?" he soliloquised, as he hastily drew on his most necessary
garments.  "A fit, perhaps, brought on by over-anxiety.  Well, I won't
disturb anybody until I see what it is; then, if necessary, I must rouse
out Dr Henderson."

And, as he came to this conclusion, the worthy man softly opened his
state-room door and stepped out on deck.

The night was dark, there being no moon, whilst the star-lit sky was
almost blotted out by the squadrons of fleecy cloud which swept with
stately motion athwart it.  Yet there was light enough to reveal to the
skipper a dark blot on the forecastle, which he knew to be a cluster of
men; and toward these he hurriedly made his way.  Before he could reach
them, however, two bare-footed men stepped softly out behind him from
the galley; and whilst one seized and pinioned his arms behind him, the
other flourished a large-headed, short-handled hammer over his head
whilst he whispered fiercely in the ear of the paralysed skipper:

"Give but a single outcry, and I'll spatter your brains about the deck."
Then he added, somewhat more gently: "No harm is intended you, Captain
Blyth, but we mean to have the ship.  We _will_ have her; and were you
to raise an alarm it would only cause bloodshed, which we are most
anxious to avoid.  Where's Nicholls?  Here, Nicholls, this man is your
prisoner; get the bilboes and clap them on him.  And--mind--I shall hold
you responsible for his safekeeping!"

"But--but--Williams," stammered poor Captain Blyth, who now identified
the speaker, "what is the meaning of all this?  I--I--don't understand
it!"

"No time to explain now," was the answer.  "Tell you all about it later
on if you care to hear.  Come, lads, away aft with us, and let us secure
our other prisoner!"

In obedience to this command, the mob of mutineers who had clustered
about the door of the forward deck-house--into which the unfortunate
skipper had been thrust--melted away, and Captain Blyth found himself
left alone with his jailer and young Manners, the latter being bound
hand and foot, and lying gagged in one of the bunks which had been
vacated when the steerage passengers were drafted into the forecastle.

In the midst of his bewilderment and dismay the skipper still retained
enough presence of mind to note, by the light of the single lantern
which illuminated the place, that his young subordinate was suffering
severe discomfort from the presence of the gag--a large belaying-pin--in
his mouth; and, turning to the man Nicholls, he pointed out that, unless
the crew wished to add the crime of murder to that of mutiny, it would
be advisable to remove the gag at once.

"Well, sir," said the man, civilly enough--he was one of the former
steerage passengers--"I don't know what to do about that.  I'd be
willing enough to take the thing out of the young gentleman's mouth, but
my orders are strict; and if anything was to happen through my meddling
you may depend upon it I should be made to suffer for it."

"If that is what you are afraid of, my good fellow," said the skipper,
"you may remove the gag at once.  Nothing _shall_ happen, I promise you.
The crew have possession of the ship, safe enough; and, bound hand and
foot as we two are, we can do nothing to recover her.  So out with it at
once, my man, unless you wish to see the poor lad suffocate before your
eyes."

This was enough; the gag was at once removed, the skipper at the same
time cautioning Manners against any ill-timed attempt to raise an alarm,
and then Nicholls was questioned as to the reasons for the mutiny.

"Well, sir," was the reply, "I don't rightly understand the ins and outs
of the thing, myself; but Williams has been talkin' to the men, and,
accordin' to his showin', labourers and mechanics and sailors have been
robbed and cheated out of their rights time out o' mind.  So the long
and the short of it is that we've all took a solemn oath to stand by one
another in an attempt to get what rightfully belongs to us."

"What rightfully belongs to you?" exclaimed the skipper in bewilderment.
"I don't understand you, my man.  You surely do not pretend to say that
_I_ have defrauded you of anything to which you are entitled?  A certain
amount of wages is, of course, due to you in respect of work already
performed; but it is the custom to pay seamen only when they arrive at
the port of discharge--"

"Oh, yes, sir; we understands all that, of course," interrupted
Nicholls.  "It ain't that at all, sir; it's--"

Captain Blyth, however, was not destined to learn just then what "it"
was, for at this point the conversation was broken in upon by the
reappearance of a party of the mutineers, headed by Williams, and having
poor Ned among them as a prisoner.

"There, Ned, there's the skipper.  In you go, my lad, and stow yourself
alongside of him; and that will complete the party," exclaimed Williams
cheerfully, as he thrust the lad unceremoniously through the doorway of
the deck-house.  "Now take the gag out of his mouth," he commanded; "but
I caution you," he continued sternly, addressing himself particularly to
Ned, "that if either of you utter a single outcry I'll blow his brains
out without hesitation."  And as he spoke he drew from his pocket a
revolver which he began deliberately to load.

"You are carrying things with a high hand, my fine fellow!" observed
Captain Blyth fiercely; "but I warn you at once that you are only
preparing a halter with which to hang yourself.  The fact that something
is wrong on board here will infallibly be discovered by the first man-
of-war which falls in with us, and your punishment will speedily follow.
Hear me, men," he continued, raising his voice and addressing the crew
generally; "I don't in the least understand your motive for behaving in
this extraordinary fashion; but cast me and my two mates adrift, and I
promise you on my word of honour that I will listen patiently to
whatever complaint you may have to make, and will redress any wrong
which you can show has been done you."

"Spare your breath, skipper," answered Williams quietly.  "We haven't
done this thing in a hurry, and we're not to be talked out of it in a
moment; and perhaps the sooner you understand that the better.  No, sir;
we've no fault to find with you or anybody else aboard here.  The fault
lies with them who've robbed, and cheated, and ground down the likes of
us for centuries; and the time has now come when the few of us as
belongs to this ship's fo'c's'le intend to help our selves to what we've
as good a right as anybody to have.  As to punishment, why, we've agreed
to take our chances about that; and as to men-o'-war, how many have we
fell in with, so far, this voyage?  We'll take our chances about them
too.  Josh Williams may be no scholar, cap'n, but he knows a thing or
two--he knows enough to be able to take care of his own neck, and of the
necks of them that trust him too."

"My good fellow, you don't in the least know what you are talking
about!" exclaimed Captain Blyth.

"Enough said, sir--enough!" interrupted Williams.  "All the talking in
the world won't undo what's done.  We've put our heads into the noose,
but we're not fools enough to sway away upon the yard-rope; so you may
spare yourself the trouble of further talk, and us the trouble of
listening to you.  Now the present time is as good as any to tell you
what our plans are so far as you are concerned; so please pay attention.
We're all hands averse to bloodshed, and we intend to work our business
without it, if possible--you understand, _if possible_!--so, instead of
cutting your throats and heaving you overboard, we're going to land
_you_, Captain Blyth, on some island or another where you'll be able to
pick up a living, but from which you won't be likely to get away until
long after we've done with the ship.  Young Manners there we shall clap
ashore on some other island four or five hundred miles away from you,
skipper; and the passengers we shall put ashore somewhere else, where
they'll not be likely to get us into trouble or to send trouble after
us.  As for Ned, here, we intend to keep him with us to navigate the
ship."

"Do you?" ejaculated Ned.  "Then understand at once and for all that I
decline to remain with you.  What! do you suppose I will mix myself up
in any way or associate with a pack of rascally mutineers?  I'll see you
all hanged first!"

"Well crowed!" ejaculated Williams approvingly with a hearty laugh.  "My
eyes, lads, what a skipper he'd make for us if he could only be
persuaded to join!  But we won't ask you to do that, Ned," he continued
in the same bantering tone.  "You can follow your own inclinations in
that matter--join us or not, just as you please; but remain with us and
navigate us you _shall_ and _will_, whether you like it or not."

"Never!" declared Ned resolutely.  "You may pitch me overboard if you
choose, but I will never do a single hand's turn to help you in any
way."

Williams did not appear to be in the least disconcerted at this
declaration; he simply sat down by Ned's side and whispered earnestly
for some minutes in the lad's ear.

As the communication progressed poor Ned first flushed deeply, then grew
as ashy pale as the sunburn on his cheeks would permit; his eyes dilated
with horror, and when Williams had finished the lad struggled to his
feet and gasped out:

"You villain! you infernal scoundrel!  Cast off my lashings, and, lad as
I am, I will thrash you before all hands for daring to make such an
infamous proposal to me!"

For the first time that night Williams showed signs of anger, but,
quickly checking himself, he said:

"Well, if that card won't take the trick, I have another that will!"
And again he sat down and resumed his whispering.

It was evident by the expression of his countenance that this time Ned
was not only horrified but also thoroughly frightened; and when Williams
ceased the poor lad hung his head and murmured in a scarcely audible
voice:

"Enough! you have conquered! though I can scarcely believe you _could_
be so inhuman--to those poor children, too!  But remember! if, after
what you have promised, the slightest insult or injury is offered to any
one of them, I'll--I'll--"

"There, that will do!" interrupted William.  "I've pledged you my word,
boy; and I hope to have you with us long enough to convince you that I
_never_ break it.  But mind!  I must have you faithfully do whatever you
are told to do, in return.  And now, as we thoroughly understand each
other, you may go back to your berth and turn in until morning; and then
I shall expect that when the passengers make their appearance you will
tell them what has happened aboard here, and also mention our intentions
about them.  And be careful to make them clearly understand that, whilst
we are all against bloodshed, the slightest suspicious action on their
part will be looked upon as treachery, and treated as such.  Cast our
new sailing-master adrift there, some of you, and let him go back to his
berth."

Williams' order was promptly obeyed; and Ned, half-dazed, rose to his
feet, advanced to the door, and then stopped.  "What about Captain Blyth
and Mr Manners?" he asked.  "What are you going to do with them?"

"They will have to put up with such accommodation as they can find here
until we have an opportunity to land them," was the reply.  "But make
your mind easy on their account, Mr Damerell; their comfort will be
properly looked after, and no harm will come to them _unless an attempt
is made to retake the ship_.  In such a case as that I won't answer for
the consequences.  The blame for whatever happens must fall upon the
shoulders of them that bring it about."

Ned was obliged to be content with this; and with a heavy heart he
turned and left the deck-house, not daring to look his commander in the
face, and feeling as guilty in his new dignity as though he had
voluntarily thrown in his lot with the mutineers, notwithstanding the
fact that pressure had been brought to bear upon him which he was
equally powerless to avoid or to resist.

Ned's first act, on returning aft, was to enter Captain Blyth's state-
room, with the object of securing the keys of the arm-chests; but the
mutineers seemed to have been beforehand with him, for the keys were
gone.  He next sought the lock-up tin box in which the ship's papers
were kept; but here, too, the mutineers had been ahead of him, for the
box, as also the captain's desk, was missing.  Being thus foiled in the
only matters which occurred to him at the moment, he left the state-
room, closing the door after him as silently and reverently as if the
captain's dead body had been lying there, and reluctantly returned to
his own berth.  Not to sleep, of course, that was utterly out of the
question, the poor lad was so overwhelmed with consternation at the
unexpected seizure of the ship, and with dismay at the way in which he
had been compulsorily identified with the movement, that he just then
felt as though he would never be able to sleep again.  No; sleep and he
were strangers, at least for the time being, so he flung himself down on
the sofa-locker and tried to think.  But for the first half-hour or so
even the power of thought was denied him.  The catastrophe had been so
utterly unattended by any warning that it was like a levin stroke
falling from a cloudless sky, and for the moment Ned found himself
unable to recognise it as an actual fact.  Over and over again he stood
up and shook himself to ascertain whether or not he was really awake, or
whether his disjointed cogitations and the cause of them were only parts
of an ugly dream.  At length, however, his mind grew clearer, the
disastrous reality of the whole business finally asserted itself, and he
then began to cast blindly about him for the means of rectification.
But, alas, the longer he thought about it, the more hopeless did the
situation appear.  He began to see that Williams had only spoken the
simple truth when he asserted that the mutiny was the result of long
premeditation.  They had laid their plans well, the scoundrels! and had
carried them out with such consummate artifice and attention to detail,
that as Ned turned over in his mind scheme after scheme for the recovery
of the ship, it was only to realise that each had been anticipated and
provided against.  At length, baffled and in despair, he gave up,
temporarily, all hope of effecting a recapture, and allowed his thoughts
to turn in another direction.  "What was to become of the passengers?"
True, Williams had guaranteed for them perfect immunity from
molestation, the price of this privilege being on Ned's part true and
faithful service as navigator of the ship for the mutineers, but a time
was to come when the passengers would be landed on some out-of-the-way
spot, doubtless, and exposed to countless perils from hunger, thirst,
exposure, and worse than all, perhaps the nameless horrors of a
captivity among savages!  And yet Ned felt that they would be in even
greater peril so long as they remained on board the _Flying Cloud_.  The
mutineers seemed peaceably disposed for the moment certainly, but how
long would that state of things continue after they had gained access to
the liquor on board?  Ned shuddered as his excited imagination pictured
the scene of bloodshed which might be enacted within the next twenty-
four hours, and he finally began to realise that even falling into the
hands of a tribe of savages might not prove to be the very worst evil
possible for those poor weak women and children.  His next thought was
that they must be got out of the ship with all possible expedition.  Ha!
but that involved the necessity for saying "good-bye"--for a parting!
Well; what of that?  He had said "good-bye" before now to plenty of
pleasant people, both on the Melbourne quays, and on the dock walls at
London.  But, somehow, this time it seemed different; he did not know
how it was, but these people seemed _more_ than friends, the ladies
especially; for them he felt that he entertained a regard as tender,
almost--or quite--as that which he felt for Eva, and this now made the
idea of parting so distasteful to him that, as his mind began to dwell
upon it, the feeling amounted almost to agony.  And this, too, quite
apart from the sensation of indignant disgust with which he regarded
Williams' unscrupulous resolution to involve him and his fortunes with
the future career of the mutineers.  But it should not be; he would
outwit the rascals somehow, and join the little party of passengers when
they were landed, even if he had to steal over the ship's side, drop
overboard, and swim ashore as the vessel sailed away.

Whilst cogitating thus, the returning daylight surprised him; and
shortly afterwards he heard a movement in the saloon which told him that
the gentlemen were about to make their appearance on deck to indulge in
the usual matutinal "tub."

He opened his state-room door and entered the saloon with a cheery
"Good-morning, gentlemen!"

"Good-morning, Mr Damerell," was the equally cheery reply; and then Mr
Gaunt, happening to notice the lad's worn and haggard appearance,
exclaimed:

"Why, good heavens, Ned, what is the matter?  Are you ill?"

"Hush!" said Ned.  "No, I am not ill, Mr Gaunt, but I am in great
trouble and perplexity.  I have passed through a rather startling
experience during the night; and"--in a low tone of voice, so that the
ladies, if awake, might not hear him--"I have bad news to communicate.
Will you kindly step into my cabin for a moment?"

The two gentlemen passed into the state-room and seated themselves on
the sofa-locker, Ned following and closing the door after him.

"Now, Ned, what is it?" asked the engineer.  "If I may judge from the
expression of your countenance the matter is serious; and, if so, out
with it at once.  You need not be afraid of startling us, I fancy."

"You _will_ be startled, nevertheless, I expect," was the reply.  "The
matter is simply this.  The crew have seized the ship, and poor Captain
Blyth and Mr Manners are at this moment close prisoners in the deck-
house for'ard!"

The two gentlemen stared first at each other, and then at Ned, in the
utmost perplexity.  For a moment or two they were both so completely
astounded that neither could find a word to say.  At length, however,
the engineer so far recovered his powers of speech as to ejaculate:

"But--but--good heavens! what will become of the women and children?
And how is it, sir, that, if what you state be true, _you_ are free--as
you apparently are?"

"You are all perfectly safe--I hope and believe--at all events for the
present.  And the price of your safety is a promise on my part to
faithfully navigate the ship to the best of my ability for the
mutineers," answered Ned with quivering lips; and then suddenly and
completely overcome by a sense of his desolate and desperate situation,
the poor lad turned away, buried his face in his hands, and burst into
tears.

Doctor Henderson appeared to be too thoroughly paralysed with surprise
and consternation to say or do anything just then; but Mr Gaunt at once
rose to his feet, and, laying his hand kindly on the young fellow's
shoulder, said:

"There, don't give way, Ned, I ought not to have spoken so harshly, but
I was rather `taken aback' as you sailors say.  Sit down, my lad, and
tell us all about it, and then we must see if we cannot devise a means
to recover possession of the ship, and restore their freedom to poor
Captain Blyth and Mr Manners."

Quickly recovering his self-control, Ned seated himself on the edge of
his bunk, and briefly related to his astonished listeners all that had
occurred during the preceding night, winding up by saying:

"As to retaking the ship, I am afraid there is scarcely a chance of our
succeeding in that, for the entire crew seem to have been completely won
over by that fellow Williams, and to be thoroughly united in their
determination to try their fortunes as pirates--for that, as I
understand it, is what it all amounts to; so you see there are only our
three selves against all hands for'ard--for they seem determined to keep
poor Captain Blyth and Manners close prisoners until they can be landed
somewhere--and what can we three do against so many?  Moreover, I have
been ordered to particularly impress upon you that, whilst the mutineers
are at present extremely averse to bloodshed, anything like a suspicious
action on your part will be looked upon as premeditated treachery, _and
treated as such_.  Those were Williams' very words.  So, whilst I shall
be only too glad to take my part in any feasible scheme which you may be
able to devise, I feel it my duty to warn you that we must all act with
the utmost circumspection."

This announcement made the gentlemen look rather blank again.

"Um!" at length said Mr Gaunt.  "The further we advance with this
business the more serious does its aspect become.  I have no very great
fancy just now for being landed anywhere but at Melbourne; nevertheless,
as matters now are, I can easily conceive a state of things which would
make us glad enough to be all safely quit of the ship, even if we had to
leave her for a raft.  We must be circumspect, as you say, Ned, ay, even
to the extent of not being seen talking much together.  But we will keep
our thoughts busy, and if a scheme occurs to either of us that person
must contrive an opportunity to communicate it as briefly as may be to
the others.  Meanwhile, you will be doing good service if you can manage
to sound the better-disposed portion of the crew, with a view to
ascertaining whether it would be possible to win them back to their
allegiance.  And now, Henderson, the best thing we can do, I think, will
be to return to our respective cabins and break this news as gently as
possible to our wives; they _must_ know it--it would be quite impossible
to long conceal the fact of the mutiny from them--and we are the most
suitable bearers of the intelligence to them.  Well, good-bye for the
present, Ned, and do not forget that you may depend upon us at any hour
of the day or night.  Is not that so, Henderson?"

"Yes, certainly, of course," was the reply.  "I am too much astonished
to say much just now, but I shall not be found wanting when the time for
action arrives.  Good-bye, Ned!"

And with a cordial shake of Ned's hand, the two quiet, unpretending-
looking men filed out and re-entered their respective cabins.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

ANXIOUS DAYS.

Upon learning the news of the mutiny the ladies were, as might be
expected, overwhelmed with consternation and dismay, feelings which were
intensified when it was further intimated to them, through Ned, that
Williams intended henceforward to take up his abode in the cabin, and
that he should expect all the passengers to favour him with their
company at meals, and, in fact, whensoever he might choose to join them.
So impertinent a message naturally excited at the outset a great deal
of indignation; but Mr Gaunt--who seemed to rise to the occasion, and
who, immediately upon the occurrence of the crisis, instinctively
assumed the direction of affairs--soon brought the little party to
reason when they assembled in the saloon for a hurried conference, by
pointing out to them that, for the present, at least, they were quite
helpless, and that, therefore, instead of struggling against what was
unavoidable, their best plan would be to humour the whims of the
mutineers, so long, of course, as they were not too outrageous, and to
quietly bide their time in the hope that an opportunity might present
itself for turning the tables upon the crew.  And he emphasised his
proposition by so many convincing arguments that, when breakfast was
announced by the steward, the entire party presented themselves at
table, the ladies making such a successful effort to conceal their
perturbation as to thoroughly astonish Williams when that worthy made
his appearance and established himself at the head of the table.

"Good-morning, ladies and gentlemen," said he, making a not ungraceful
bow as he seated himself.  "Hope you all slept well."

"Thank you," said Mr Gaunt; "yes, I believe we all enjoyed a fairly
good night's rest; thanks to our ignorance of what was going forward."

"Ah, yes," answered Williams with a somewhat constrained laugh and an
obviously embarrassed manner; "yes, we took the liberty of making a
change or two for the better during the night."

"For the better?" repeated Gaunt.  "Pray how can you demonstrate that
the changes you have effected are for the better?"

"Well, I'll tell you," answered Williams.  "I'm glad you've asked, as it
gives me an opportunity to explain the why and the wherefore of our
acts, and to show you that we are not, after all, quite such villains as
I daresay you now think us.  First and foremost," he continued, "I
suppose I need not point out to gentlemen of your intelligence and
experience that sailors--foremast men, that is to say--lead the hardest
lives and are the worst paid for it of any set of men living?"

"Well," said Mr Gaunt, "without being prepared to go so far as that I
am quite willing to admit that the life of a seaman is a hard one.  But
what has that to do with your mutiny?  In the first place, I suppose you
joined the ship voluntarily; and, in the next, it seems to me, from what
I have seen, that you have been made as comfortable on board here as was
possible under the circumstances.  Your food has been good and
sufficient, your quarters are dry, airy, and comfortable, and surely it
would be difficult to find more considerate officers than Captain Blyth
and his mates?"

"All very true, so far as it goes," answered Williams, "but would _you_
like to be a seaman before the mast?"

"No," said Mr Gaunt, "I frankly admit I should not; otherwise, I
suppose I should have been a seaman, and not a civil engineer.  But the
life was of your own choosing, I presume?"

"Yes, it was, and I don't complain of it," said Williams.  "The thing I
complain of is, that, seeing what a life of hardship and peril ours is,
we do not get paid a half nor a quarter enough.  What would be the use
of ships without sailors to man them?  We are just as necessary to a
ship as her captain; yet look at the difference in his pay and ours!  I
say it is not fair; it is rank injustice; sailors have just been
_robbed_ all these years, and the long and the short of it is that the
crew of this ship means to get back part of what has been stolen from
them by the dishonesty of shipowners."

"But, my good fellow," exclaimed the engineer, "you are taking an
altogether wrong view of the question.  Admitting that you are as
necessary to the ship as her captain, you entirely overlook the
important fact that _one_ captain is sufficient for a ship, no matter
how large she may be, whilst _one_ seaman alone is of very trifling
value; hence the difference in the scale of pay."

It was clear enough from the expression of the mutineer's face that this
view of the question had never before been presented to him; he was
completely "taken aback," and for a minute or two could find absolutely
nothing to say.

"Well!" he exclaimed at last, "it is clear enough that it is no use for
an ignorant man like me to try to argue with an educated gentleman like
you; you are bound to go to wind'ard of me the very first tack, and I
was a fool for attempting it.  But there are other matters which, in my
opinion, fully justify the step we have taken."

"The fellow may _call_ himself an ignorant man, but his language is that
of a person who has enjoyed at least some of the benefits of education,"
thought Gaunt.  But he merely said:

"Indeed!  May I ask what they are?"

"Certainly.  The question is just this.  Why should I, and thousands
like me, have to work and slave for a bare living, whilst there are
others who never do a stroke of work in their whole lives and yet have
houses, and land, and money, horses and carriages--in fact, all that
heart can wish for?  Is this fair, or right, or just?"

"Assuredly it is," was the reply, "and so, I think, you will admit, if
you will give the matter a moment's consideration.  It is not your fault
or mine that you and I do not occupy the enviable position in life to
which you have just referred; it is the fault, if fault there be, of our
ancestors.  They did not happen to be money-getters, and therefore, if
we wish to enjoy the advantages attendant upon the possession of a
fortune, large or small, we must get the fortune for ourselves.  Just
look at the question for a moment from the millionaire's point of view.
If you happened to possess a fortune would you consider it fair or just
that you should be called upon to divide it evenly with everybody worse
off than yourself?  For that, I fancy, is the idea you have in your
mind."

This was another poser which Williams evidently found it wholly
impossible to answer.  He hung his head in deep and perplexed thought
for some minutes, and at length said:

"It is quite impossible for me to argue with you, as I said before; but
the long and the short of it is this, we have made our plans, and we
intend to carry them out, right or wrong.  But you need have no
apprehension for yourselves.  We have no intention to prey upon private
individuals; and though we shall be obliged to land you on some spot
from which it will be impossible for you to escape, we will deliver up
to you the whole of your private property, and also furnish you with
means to protect yourselves and to preserve your lives, so far as we
have the power."

And without waiting to discuss the question further, the mutineer rose
from the table and beat a somewhat precipitate retreat.

"Had you any hope of convincing the fellow?" asked the doctor, when the
little party once more found themselves free to converse unreservedly.

"No, I cannot say I had," answered Gaunt; "but I thought I might so far
shake his purpose as to make him hesitate about his future plans, and so
give us a little more time in which to act.  But it is evident enough
that he has no wish to be convinced; if, therefore, we are to do
anything we must make our arrangements speedily.  Come on deck and have
a smoke, old fellow."

The ladies had no fancy for being left alone just then; the entire
party, therefore, children included, adjourned to the poop.  Williams
was then standing in the waist talking to the boatswain, to whom he
appeared to be giving some instructions; but on observing the movements
of the passengers he signed to Ned, who was standing near, to follow
him, and hastily made his way into the saloon.

"Bring me the captain's charts," he said, as soon as Ned joined him.
The charts were produced; and after carefully looking them over Williams
selected a track-chart of the world, which he carefully spread out on
the table.

"Now, show me whereabouts we are," he said.

Ned indicated the position of the ship by making a pencil dot on the
paper, and a long period of anxious study on Williams' part followed.

"What is the course to the Straits of Sunda?" was the next question.

Ned told him; whereupon Williams left the saloon, and a moment later was
heard altering the course of the ship in accordance with Ned's
information.  He then returned to the saloon, and unrolled a chart of
the North Pacific, which he pored anxiously over for fully a quarter of
an hour, finally huddling the charts all together in a heap, with the
remark, "That will do for the present;" which Ned construed into a token
of dismissal, and accordingly left the cabin.

Day followed day with little or no variety, the weather continuing fine
all the time, and at length the _Flying Cloud_ arrived within a few
days' sail of the Straits of Sunda.  Ned now spent on deck every moment
he could possibly spare from sleep, as he was not without hopes that
hereabout a man-of-war might be fallen in with; and he was resolved
that, in such a case, it should go hard but he would make some effort to
communicate to her the state of affairs on board.

And, as a matter of fact, they actually did sight a frigate on the day
upon which they entered the straits.  But Williams was not to be caught
napping; he too had evidently contemplated some such possibility, and
had taken such precautions as not only rendered it impossible for anyone
to make a private signal, but had also arranged such answers to the
signals usually made on such occasions that the frigate was completely
hoodwinked, and passed on her way without attempting to send a boat
alongside.

This was a terrible disappointment, not only to Ned but also to Gaunt
and the doctor, each of them having confidently reckoned upon a certain
deliverance in the event of a man-of-war being fallen in with.

They now recognised that in Williams, whether educated or not, they had
a man of no ordinary acuteness to deal with; they realised that, though
apparently free as air to act as they pleased, an unceasing watch was
being kept upon them, and they felt that henceforth they must not place
any dependence upon the hope of help from without.  They all, therefore,
individually and collectively too, so far as they had opportunity, began
to plot and scheme; in the hope of being able to hit upon some plan
which might enable them to recover possession of the ship, going even to
the perilous length of sounding the least unpromising of the crew in the
hope of finding at least a few of them open to either persuasion or
bribery.  But it was all of no avail.  The men proved not only
unresponsive but suspicious; and they were also wholly unsuccessful in
their efforts to communicate with Captain Blyth, of whom they could not
get so much as a sight, much less speech with him.

"It is of no use for us to try any further," at last said Gaunt, when
talking matters over with the doctor.  "We have tried our best, but
Williams is too acute and too strong for us.  I have noticed a certain
something in his manner within the last day or two which tells me that
we are standing on very perilous ground, and we must drop the whole
affair before worse comes of it.  We must not forget that the women and
children have only us to look to for protection in this awful strait; it
will never do for us to attempt anything which might result in their
being left to the tender mercies of those ruffians forward.  The only
thing we can now hope for is a speedy and safe deliverance from their
clutches by being landed somewhere; and we must pray that they will be
induced to land us on some spot where we may not only be able to make
ourselves safe, but also to secure the means of living."

Meanwhile the ship passed safely through the Straits of Sunda, along the
south coast of Borneo, and so into the Java and Flores Seas; Williams
maintaining a ceaseless and anxious watch upon Ned as the lad daily
pricked off upon the chart the position of the ship, and frequently
altering the course with the evident object of inspecting certain
islands, probably to ascertain whether they were suitable for landing
his unwelcome guests upon.  Several islands were visited, but none of
them proved satisfactory.  Some were found to be inhabited by savages,
whose demonstrations at sight of the ship were so unmistakably hostile
that it would have been obviously only murder thinly disguised to have
landed any white person there, whilst others seemed deficient in the
means of sustaining life.  Wandering thus about the ocean a fortnight
passed away, and Williams began to grow impatient; so much so indeed
that he at length proposed landing the passengers on the next land seen,
let it be what it would.  But to this the crew would not agree: they
were as yet young in crime, and were determined that, since the
passengers _must_ be got rid of, they should at least be given a fair
chance.  A compromise was at length come to, by which it was agreed that
the search should be continued for three days longer, after which the
unlucky passengers were to be landed on the first land seen, there to
take their chance.  This matter was decided at a council composed of the
entire crew, on the evening of a day whereon no less than three islands
had been fruitlessly visited; and at the close of the discussion Ned was
summoned and the chart consulted.  At Williams' request the area already
examined was pointed out, and then, after much discussion, a course of
due east was decided upon, in order that a new tract of sea might be
explored.  On this course the chart showed a clear sea for something
like three hundred miles ahead of them.  Everybody was therefore much
astonished when at daybreak next morning land was descried right ahead
at a distance of only about ten miles.

The discovery was of course first reported to Williams, who seemed
greatly disconcerted by it.

"Call Ned," said he.

Ned was duly summoned, and soon made his appearance on the topgallant-
forecastle, upon which Williams had already established himself, and
from which advantageous stand-point he was watching the approach of the
ship to the land.

"What do you call that?" demanded Williams, pointing ahead, as soon as
he became conscious of Ned's presence beside him.

"Land--unmistakably land!" exclaimed Ned, shading his eyes with his hand
to get a clearer view.

"And do you know how far the ship has run during the night?" angrily
demanded the mutineer.

"Not far, I should think; perhaps fifty or sixty miles," replied Ned,
glancing aloft and away toward the horizon to note the appearance of sea
and sky.

"And did you not tell me only last night that we had a clear sea to the
eastward of us for something like three hundred miles?  Yet there is the
land; and if it had happened to blow fresh during the night we should
perhaps have run upon it before making it out in the dark.  How do you
account for your being so strangely out of your reckoning?" sternly
asked Williams.

"I am not out of my reckoning," hotly retorted Ned; "and I cannot
account for the appearance of that island except upon the supposition
that this particular portion of the ocean has never yet been thoroughly
examined, and that therefore the island ahead has never been observed
and set down on the chart.  One thing at all events is certain, and that
is that, as I said last night, the chart shows a clear sea a long way
ahead of us."

"Bring the chart to me, and let me have another look at it," growled
Williams.

Ned produced the chart and spread it out on the deck, when Williams
kneeled down and examined it for some time with very evident suspicion,
not scrupling at last to hint pretty plainly his impression that Ned had
deliberately intended to cast away the ship.  Of course Ned indignantly
repudiated any such intention, and at length apparently succeeded in
partially reassuring Williams, who finally grumbled out; "Well, if what
you say be true, the only conclusion we can come to is that yonder
island has never yet been visited by civilised beings; and if that is
the case it is all the more suitable a spot on which to land some of our
useless live lumber.  So go aft and tell the passengers to pack up their
traps at once, as I am about to put them ashore.  And tell the boatswain
to open the after-hatch and to pass these people's dunnage on deck all
ready for sending ashore with them.  I am quite tired of running about
looking for a suitable spot for them, and will look no further.  They
will have to do the best they can yonder, savages or no savages."

Ned hurried aft to the poop, on which the little group of ladies and
gentlemen was congregated, and delivered his message, adding:

"I am very glad--in some respects--that you are going, for I may now
tell you that unconsciously you have been in some sort acting as
hostages for my good behaviour, and I have been dreadfully afraid that
some involuntary slip on my part might complicate matters for you.  When
once you are all safely out of the ship I shall feel more at liberty to
take a few risks, if I can see that any good is likely to arise
therefrom.  I was at first in hopes that Captain Blyth and young Manners
would have been put on shore with you, in which case I would have joined
you, even if I had had to swim for it; but I am afraid Williams--the
scoundrel--intends to land them elsewhere, in which case I am sure it is
my duty to stick to the ship so long as they remain on board.  But, at
all events, I will try to give you the latitude and longitude of the
island before you leave us, for, if I mistake not, you, Mr Gaunt, can
navigate?"

"Yes," said Gaunt, "I am a fairly good navigator, and not a bad seaman,
in an amateurish sort of way, you know.  But do not trouble about the
position of the island.  I have here," producing his watch, "an
excellent chronometer, showing Greenwich time, and books and instruments
among my luggage which, with the aid of sun, moon, and stars, will
enable me to obtain all the information I need.  True, I have no charts;
but I have a capital atlas, which will serve our turn, so far as finding
our way from place to place is concerned.  And now, Ned, whilst we have
the opportunity, let me say that we all thoroughly understand the
peculiar and difficult position in which you are placed on board here,
and that we consider you have conducted yourself admirably and with
remarkable discretion from the very commencement of this deplorable
business of the mutiny.  And if, as is by no means improbable, you
should by and by find yourself involved by your involuntary association
with these mutineers in a situation of difficulty or peril, we shall be
most happy and willing to bear testimony to that effect, if we happen to
be in a situation to do so.  We shall of course endeavour to escape from
our island prison; and should we succeed, our first act on reaching a
civilised country will be to make to the authorities a full and detailed
report of all the circumstances of the mutiny, so that a man-of-war may
be sent out in quest of the ship.  But I think it will be well for _you_
to do the same, for your own sake.  You can perhaps manage it by writing
an account of the transaction, sealing it up in a bottle, and throwing
the bottle overboard when you happen to be in some well-frequented ship
track; not forgetting to state in your report the position of the island
on which we are landed, as well as that of the spot on which poor
Captain Blyth and young Manners may be put on shore.  And now, as we may
not have another opportunity to say it, good-bye, my dear lad, remain
honest and true to your duty, as you have been hitherto, and leave all
the rest to God, who will not allow you to suffer for the faults of
others.  Good-bye, Ned, and God bless and guide and deliver you from all
evil.  Amen."

Gaunt then shook Ned heartily by the hand, after which the others
stepped forward one by one and did the same, each saying a hopeful word
or two to cheer and encourage him under the pang of parting, which it
was evident enough the poor lad felt keenly.  Sibylla hung back until
all the others, the poor children included, had spoken their farewell,
and then she too advanced and held out her hand.  She was very pale, and
the small shapely trembling hand which Ned grasped in his was icy cold;
but however keenly she may have felt the parting under such terrible
circumstances she contrived to maintain at least a semblance of outward
composure, though there was a tremor in her voice which she found it
quite impossible to control.  She murmured a few low half-inarticulate
words of farewell, gave Ned's hand a slight involuntary pressure ere she
released it, and then hastily retreated to her state-room.

As for poor Ned, on releasing Sibylla's hand he turned and staggered out
of the cabin, looking like a man who had been suddenly struck a numbing
blow, and feeling as he might have felt had the saloon been a felon's
dock in which he had just received his death-sentence.  This miserable
parting, though he had been constantly expecting it any time within the
previous fortnight, and though he honestly believed--as he had said--
that he was glad of it, now seemed to have come upon him with startling
suddenness, and it had called up with it an unexpected feeling of bitter
anguish for which he was wholly unprepared, and for which he found it
difficult to account.  It was not, he thought, that he had conceived for
these people an exceptionally warm friendship; he had made many friends
during his sea-going career for whom he had felt quite as strong a
regard, yet when the time for it came he had been able to say farewell
with a cheery voice and a comparatively light heart.  But now it seemed
altogether a different matter; though the sun still shone brilliantly,
as of old, and the warm soft wind still roughened the sapphire sea and
caused it to laugh and sparkle as joyously as ever, the whole world
looked dark, cheerless, and gloomy to him, and he felt as though he had
suddenly become the victim of some terrible calamity.  In the endeavour
to get rid of the horrible feeling of depression which had thus
unaccountably seized upon him, Ned went and hunted up the boatswain, and
delivered Williams' order respecting the removal of the passengers'
baggage from the hold; after which he mounted the poop, on which
Williams had by this time stationed himself.  But, actuated by the new
and peculiar feeling which was just then so strongly asserting itself
within his breast, the lad could think only of the mysterious island
ahead, and of those who were so soon to be landed upon it; and his
imagination, powerfully stimulated as it just then was, already pictured
the little party abandoned there, and reduced to the most primitive
state of self-dependence, given over to battle for their very existence
as best they might: houseless, exposed to a thousand perils, and
destitute of even the commonest necessaries of life until such could be
provided by their own exertions.  There was one--and only one--grain of
comfort to brighten the gloomy prospect as it presented itself to Ned's
mental vision, which was that Mr Gaunt seemed to be a man of infinite
resource; one of those extremely rare individuals who can never be taken
wholly by surprise, and who no sooner find themselves confronted by a
difficulty than they are ready with a remedy for it.  The doctor, too,
though a singularly quiet and unassuming man, struck Ned as one who, his
work once fairly cut out for him, would go manfully through with it.
But what could two men, however resolute, do in the position they would
soon occupy, unless well provided with arms, ammunition, and tools?
And, determined to let slip no opportunity to help those in whom he was
so strongly interested, the lad turned to Williams and said:

"As I suppose you do not intend to turn these people adrift without
arms, or the tools with which to construct for themselves some sort of a
shelter, would it not be well to look up a few things for them at once,
so that the ship may not be detained in a position of danger when the
landing takes place?"

"Arms! tools!" growled Williams.  "Who spoke of supplying them with
either?"

"Nobody," answered Ned; "but you cannot surely be thinking of putting
them ashore without them?"

"Now, supposing that you had the management of this job," snarled
Williams, "what would you give them?"

"Well," said Ned, "I should let them have one of those spare topsails
out of the sail-room; a couple of rifles apiece, including the women,
with plenty of ammunition, two or three axes, a hammer or two, and a few
bags of nails."

"Oh! you would, eh?" sneered Williams.  "And what use do you suppose all
those things would be to them?"

"The sail," said Ned, "would serve them for a tent until they could
build a house, the tools would enable them to build the house, and the
arms would give them a chance to defend themselves if attacked, as well
as to provide themselves with food."

"Well, yes, that's true," answered Williams, rather reluctantly.  "Very
well," he continued, "go and rout the things out; and let me see them
when you have got them together."

Without waiting to give the fellow a chance to change his mind, Ned
hurried off, and summoning the boatswain and his gang to his assistance,
soon had the topsail on deck; after which he procured the keys of the
arm-chest and selected not ten but a dozen rifles, fitted with bayonets,
a goodly stock of ammunition, three new axes with helves complete, a
couple of shovels, two hammers, half a dozen bags of nails, mostly
large, a coil of inch rope, an adze, and a quantity of tinware--as less
liable to breakage than crockery.  And, as a suitable finish to the
whole, he topped off with a case which he routed out from the lazarette,
and which bore on its side the legend "assorted tinned meats."

Breakfast was by this time ready; and on its being announced, Williams
ordered Ned to take charge of the deck, and, in the event of anything
noteworthy occurring, to report to him at once.  Ned was by no means
sorry to be thus left to himself for a short time; but, fully alive to
the exceptional nature of the responsibility laid upon him at that
particular moment, deemed his proper position just then to be in the
fore-top.  And, first procuring his telescope, thither he quickly made
his way.

The ship was by this time within about five miles of the land; and the
first thing the lad noticed, on reaching his more elevated post, was
that the sea was breaking heavily all along the shore.  Hailing the
boatswain, who was on deck, Ned instructed that functionary to report
this circumstance to Williams, who, in consequence, soon made his
appearance on deck again.

"Fore-top, there!" he hailed; "how far are the breakers off the shore?"

"About a mile, I should say," answered Ned.

"Do they look too heavy for a boat to go through them?" was the next
inquiry.

"Yes," answered Ned; "there is nothing but white water all along this
side of the island."

"Very well," said Williams, "stay where you are, and keep your eyes
peeled; we must try the lee side of the island, that's all.  Lay aft
here, my lads, and man the lee braces.  Down with your helm, there, you
sir, and let her come by the wind.  Brace sharp up, my bullies; we
mustn't leave the hooker's bones on yon island if we can help it.  Well,
there! belay all!  How is that, Ned; shall we weather the southernmost
point, think ye?"

"Yes," answered Ned, "and plenty to spare, if there is no current to set
us to leeward."

The island was now to leeward of the ship, stretching along the horizon
on her larboard beam, the northern extremity being well on her quarter,
whilst the southern end, with an outlying reef, lay about three points
on her lee-bow.  Anxious to see and learn as much as possible of the
place which was to be the--possibly life-long--abode of those who had
suddenly seemed so dear to him, Ned again had recourse to his telescope,
with which he forthwith proceeded to carefully scan the island.

It measured, from north to south, about six miles, as nearly as the lad
could estimate it; what its measurement might be in the other direction
it was not then possible to say.  The land was very high, especially
toward the centre of the island; and one of the first things which
attracted Ned's attention was a remarkable cliff, apparently quite
perpendicular, which traversed the island from north to south, seemingly
about four hundred feet high, and which sprang sheer out of the ridge of
a lofty hill which appeared to form the back-bone, as it were, of the
island.  This cliff seemed to Ned to divide the island into two distinct
parts; for it terminated, both to north and to south, in a terrific
precipice falling sheer down to the sea, which foamed and chafed at its
base.  This gave the island a most peculiar appearance, suggesting the
idea that at some distant period of the world's history a mighty
convulsion had occurred, rending the rocks violently asunder and forcing
a portion of them--namely, that which formed the land in sight--far
above the level of the rest.  To the eastward, or landward of the
remarkable cliff already referred to, Ned could see the steep conical
summit of a lofty mountain, apparently about four miles inland; but the
cliff was too high to allow of his seeing any other portion of the
island beyond it.  The land was covered with wood from the base of the
cliff clear down to the inner margin of the beach, and, with the aid of
his glass, Ned could detect the feathery fronds of cocoanut and other
palms, as well as the less lofty foliage of the useful banana.
Meanwhile, the ship had by this time reached a point which enabled the
lad to make out that the long line of breakers which had first attracted
his attention inclosed a bay about a mile wide and nearly that depth,
the water of which was quite smooth and unbroken inside the inner line
of breakers.  And whilst examining this bay, with the idea that a
knowledge of it might be useful to his friends, Ned's eye was arrested
by an object on the inner edge of the reef, and almost in smooth water,
which a more careful inspection showed him to be a wreck.  This
discovery he determined not to report, but to communicate, if possible,
to the little party before they were landed.  And, to make more certain
of being able to do so, he there and then tore a leaf out of his pocket-
book and jotted down a few notes respecting his observations, which he
thought they might be glad to have.

At length the ship handsomely weathered the most southerly extremity of
the island, this proving to be a bold projection in a vertical cliff,
the summit of which towered in some places to a height of nearly sixteen
hundred feet above the sea.  This cliff extended along the whole
southern seaboard of the island, towering highest at the point where it
met the curious transverse cliff before mentioned, and gradually
becoming lower as it neared the eastern end of the island, which now
showed itself to be about eleven miles in length from east to west.
With the exception of the mountain, the conical top of which Ned had
seen over the summit of the transverse cliff, that cliff seemed to be
the highest part of the island; though the rest of it was also hilly,
gradually sloping, however, to the eastward until it terminated in a
beautiful white sandy beach, on which Ned soon saw that a landing might
be effected without difficulty.

As soon as Ned had piloted the ship into a position where she might be
hove-to with safety, Williams called him down on deck, on reaching which
he was summoned aft.

"Now then!" exclaimed Williams, "let's give this cargo"--pointing to
Ned's collection of miscellaneous articles for the passengers'
benefit--"an overhaul.  You seem quite determined that they shall not
want for much, by the look of it."

"Of course not; why should they?" demanded Ned.  "They are not going on
shore to please themselves, but to please you; and it is only right that
they should be supplied with everything necessary to make themselves
thoroughly comfortable.  They ought not to be allowed to want for
_anything_."

Williams admitted that there was some truth in that argument; and, after
inquiring what uses certain of the articles were expected to be put to,
ordered the boat to be lowered and manned, and everything to be passed
down into her.  When this came to be done, however, there proved to be,
with the luggage, too much for one boat; so, rather than incur the delay
which would be entailed by the making of a second trip, Williams, with
many expressions of dissatisfaction and impatience, ordered the second
quarter-boat to be lowered.

At length everything was pronounced to be in the boats; and nothing
remained but for the passengers themselves to pass down over the side.
They had, previously to this, asked and been refused permission to say
farewell to Captain Blyth, there was therefore nothing further to detain
them, and Mr Gaunt now advanced to the gangway, where he paused for a
moment in order to protest formally against being thus landed in a part
of the world from which there seemed little or no hope of their being
able to effect their escape.  The protest was, of course, utterly
ineffectual, as they quite expected it would be--indeed it was only made
because they wished it to be clearly understood by all hands that they
were not leaving the ship of their own free-will--and when the engineer
had finished speaking, all that Williams said in reply was:

"That is all right.  And now, as there is a fairish amount of swell
running, I would recommend you two gentlemen to go down into the boat
first, so as to help the ladies and children down, and to see that none
of them fall overboard."

This was such sound advice that the engineer at once followed it, Ned at
the same time pressing forward, and, under cover of a pretence of
wishing to shake hands with him for the last time, slipped into his hand
the pencil note he had prepared.  The transfer was effected unobserved;
and the doctor next stepping forward, soon found himself safely in the
boat beside his friend.  The children were next carefully handed down by
Ned; after which, at a sign from Williams, first Mrs Gaunt and then
Mrs Henderson followed.  There now remained only Sibylla to complete
the party; and she was in the act of advancing to the gangway, when--to
the unspeakable dismay of those most concerned--Williams, who was
standing on the rail, gave the order for both boats to shove off, at the
same moment leaping down off the rail on deck.  His extraordinary order
must have been anticipated, so promptly was it obeyed; and before even
Gaunt could recover from his momentary surprise, the boats were fifty
yards away from the ship and heading for the shore, whilst the cries of
the hapless deserted girl rang fearfully out over the water after them.

The feeling of dismay naturally excited in the breasts of the
unfortunate passengers by this singular episode was of the briefest
possible duration, and was immediately succeeded by one of vexed
astonishment, that by what seemed like a cruel and inexcusably careless
oversight, a sensitive girl should have been subjected to even the most
temporary alarm; and whilst Mrs Henderson started to her feet with
clasped hands and wide-open startled eyes, Gaunt laid his hand on the
tiller, and jammed it hard over, as he exclaimed authoritatively:

"Back water, the starboard oars! pull, the port! round with her, men!
You have left Miss Stanhope behind!"

The men, looking surprisedly at each other, proceeded to obey the order,
upon which the new second-mate, who was in charge of the boat, started
to his feet, and prefacing the inquiry with an oath, demanded:

"Now then, you sodgers, what are you about?  Who commands this here
boat?  Give way, you swabs, and bend your backs to it, too, or there'll
be trouble for some of you when you gets back to the ship.  It's all
right, sir," he continued, addressing Gaunt; "the young lady is to stay
where she is.  It was all arranged by Williams and a few more of us
about half an hour ago, whilst you was all busy packing up your traps in
the cabin.  The fact is like this here: None of us foremast hands
understands anything about navigation, so we've been obliged to press
young Ned into the sarvice; and we knows as how his heart ain't in the
job, and Williams sort of suspects that he'd play us a scurvy trick if
he dared.  As long as you was with us he was all right, because, d'ye
see, Williams told him that if he played us false you'd be made to
suffer for it; but it suddenly struck him just now that when you was all
put ashore where should we be?  So he and two or three more of us had a
palaver together, and the long and the short of it is that we decided to
keep the young woman with us as a `hostage,' Williams calls it, whereby
we shall keep the whip hand of the lad, as you may say.  So all her
dunnage was passed down into the after-hold again on the quiet, and if
there's anything of hers in either of the boats we've got to take it
back aboard again.  And Williams' very last orders was that I was to be
sure to tell you that you wasn't to worry about the young lady, because
we've all agreed that she shall be treated as a passenger with the
greatest possible respect, and not be interfered with by anybody."

"Oh, my poor sister--my poor lost sister!" moaned Mrs Henderson,
burying her face in her hands as she burst into a passion of hysterical
tears; and whilst Mrs Gaunt did her best to soothe and comfort her
unfortunate friend, Doctor Henderson and the engineer sought by every
means in their power to induce the boat's crew to return to the ship and
give them an opportunity to try their persuasive powers on Williams,
with the object of obtaining Miss Stanhope's release.  Their efforts
proved utterly vain, the men positively refusing to go back; but hope
was not entirely abandoned nor their efforts suspended until they had
landed, and the boats were fairly out of ear-shot on their way back to
the ship.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

SIBYLLA THE HOSTAGE.

Sibylla no sooner heard Williams' order for the boats to shove off than
she intuitively divined the horrible fate in store for her; and,
resolved to effect her escape at any and every hazard, she darted toward
the gangway, determined to fling herself into the sea rather than be
left alone and unprotected in the midst of that gang of lawless men.
But Williams was too quick for her; he saw her movement, anticipated her
intention, and, leaping down off the rail, flung his arms around her,
exclaiming:

"Avast there, my pretty one; you are to stay with us!  Nay, it is no use
to struggle; you will not be allowed to go, so you may as well submit
quietly to your fate.  Curse the girl--how she fights!  Stand still,
will you, and listen to me!  The boats are already a hundred fathoms
away from the ship; there are half a dozen sharks cruising round us--I
saw them not five minutes ago; and if you were silly enough to jump
overboard, as you seem inclined to do, you would be torn to pieces
before we could even think about picking you up."

"Better that than to remain here at the mercy of such wretches as you!"
gasped Sibylla, still struggling feebly, for her strength was almost
exhausted.

"Well said, my beauty," laughed Williams; "you are a rare plucky one,
and no mistake.  I like to see--"

"Hands off, Williams!" exclaimed Ned, as he stepped coldly forward to
the rescue.  "What do you mean, sir, by such dastardly conduct?  Do you
call this keeping faith with me?"

"Yes, of course I do," exclaimed Williams.  "I don't want to hurt her if
she'll only keep quiet.  Here, Ned, you take charge of her.  She'll be
quieter with you than with me, perhaps; and see if you can persuade her
that she will be better off here than overboard among the sharks.  As to
keeping faith with you, my hearty, why, I've done the best I could.
Those friends of yours, that you seem to have taken such a tremendous
fancy to, have been treated just as well since we took the ship as they
were before.  We've lost nearly three weeks cruising about trying to
find a good place on which to land them--and a perfect paradise of a
spot we've found for them at last; nobody could wish for a better--and,
now that they are turned adrift, I've landed them with an outfit
complete enough for them to start a regular colony.  What more would you
have!  Haven't I yet done enough to satisfy you?"

"No, certainly not," answered Ned, inwardly grieving now that he had not
ventured to add to the scanty "outfit" several other articles which he
had felt would have been of the utmost value to the marooned party, but
which he had feared to include lest the whole should have been refused
them.  "No; this young lady was one of the party, and was included in my
stipulations.  Yet you have detained her on board here, a prisoner."

"Ah, well! the less said about that, perhaps, the better," remarked
Williams.  "I quite intended to have landed her with the rest of them;
but that island looming up ahead this morning--when you told us only
last night that we had a clear sea ahead of us--looked so queer that we
held a consultation, and came to the conclusion that, for our own
safety's sake, we ought to keep somebody aboard here to act as a sort of
hostage to secure us against treachery on your part; and, as we didn't
think it would be right to separate husband and wife, or parents and
children, why, you see, there was only this young lady left for us.
And, whilst we are talking upon this subject, shipmates," he continued,
turning to the rest of the crew, whose curiosity had brought them about
the little party, "let me say, here and now, that Bill Rogers, Bob
Martin, and myself agreed this morning that she must be kept among us
for the safety of the ship and all hands.  You all know--for no secret
has been made of it--that Ned, there, has been kept with us, not of his
own free-will, but because we required somebody to navigate the ship for
us.  And you know, too, or I know, that the lad has just that amount of
spirit in him that he wouldn't hesitate to cast away the ship and all
hands--himself included--or to play us any other awkward trick if he saw
a chance of spoiling our plans for the recovery of a few of the good
things that we've been defrauded out of.  Now, so long as this young
girl is all safe and sound we have nothing to fear from his treachery,
because, d'ye see, I'm going to tell him and her--as I do now--that any
act, or even suspicion, of treachery on _his_ part will be followed by
the young woman being turned adrift by herself in the dinghy; and,
rather than see her come to harm, he will be faithful to us, and carry
out our orders to the best of his ability.  But if evil comes to her we
shall lose our hold upon him at once--I say all this before him because
I've studied him and know him, and I want him to understand as much--and
it has, therefore, been agreed that any man who interferes with the
young lady will be shot at once and on the spot.  So, now, mates, as
you've had the whole affair explained to you, it is to be hoped you'll
shape your behaviour accordingly."

"Stop a moment!" exclaimed Ned, as Williams waved his hand by way of
dismissal to his little audience, "it seems, from what Williams has
said, that Miss Stanhope has been detained a prisoner solely on my
account.  If that be really the case, I wish to say that, if you will
release her and put her on shore with her friends on the island yonder,
I swear to you that, though I will never take part in any piracies or
other unlawful acts which you may commit, I will in every other respect
be absolutely faithful to you, and will navigate the ship whithersoever
you will, to the best of my ability.  This is no light sacrifice for a
young man in my position to make; yet I will make it cheerfully, and
take any oath of fidelity you may choose to impose upon me."

"It is no use, Ned; we can't--we dare not do it," answered Williams.
"You mean what you say--_now_--I don't doubt; but if you ever had a
chance to betray us, as you may have, you wouldn't be able to resist the
temptation.  No; the matter has been fully talked over, and the young
lady must stay."

Ned was about to make a further effort on Sibylla's behalf, but the girl
herself stopped him.

"Humble yourself no more to these men!" she said; "it will be of no
avail, I can clearly see.  And trouble not yourself on my behalf.  God
is able to protect me even here; His will be done!"

She turned away, and Ned, offering his arm, half led, half supported
Sibylla into the cabin; and, as he poured out and offered her a glass of
wine from a decanter which stood in one of the swinging trays over the
table, he exclaimed:

"Oh!  Miss Stanhope, what can I say, or how express the sorrow and
regret I feel at the knowledge that it is through me you are placed in
this terrible position.  Believe me--"

"Say no more, Mr Damerell, I entreat you," interrupted Sibylla.  "I
know that you have no cause for self-reproach; we are both equally
unfortunate.  For, if I am detained on board this ship a prisoner, so
are you; your prospects in life are as completely blighted as mine.  And
I have at least the comfort of that man's assurance--in which I believe
he was quite sincere--that I shall be treated with consideration and
respect.  Indeed, terrible as must be my position here, I am by no means
sure that I am not safer where I am than is my poor sister on that
lonely island.  What may be her fate and that of those who are with her
who can tell? to what dangers and privations will not they be exposed?
It is terrible only to think of it.  And now let me thank you for your
noble and self-sacrificing efforts just now on my behalf.  Come what
will, I shall never forget them, nor shall I ever forget that you have
proved yourself our true and staunch friend, forgetting yourself and all
your own trouble and peril in your anxiety to help and befriend us.
Tell me, do you think there is any possibility of our ever being able to
make our escape from these dreadful people?"

"Well," said Ned, "I should not like to raise hopes which may never be
fulfilled, but I think there _is_ just a possibility of it.  You must
not build too much on what I say, because it would be idle to deny that
our future is beset with difficulties and perils.  The absence of your
brother-in-law, the doctor, and Mr Gaunt is an irreparable loss to us,
to say nothing of that of the captain and young Manners, both of whom
will, I feel sure, be landed somewhere within the next few days.  But do
not despair; perhaps, when Williams has rid himself of them, his
vigilance may relax.  I should, under any circumstances, have tried to
escape, and you may rest assured that, as your deliverance seems now to
depend almost wholly upon me, my thoughts will more than ever be given
to the project.  What you have to do is to think as little as may be
upon your present situation and to keep up your spirits.  A chance _may_
come to us at any moment--and I believe it _will_ come, sooner or later.
We must therefore be on the watch and hold ourselves ready to take
advantage of it when it comes.  The accidents--if I may call them so--of
the sea are countless; we shall, by and by, be constantly hovering in
the regular track of other ships, and that, in spite of all their
vigilance, may afford us an opportunity to make our situation known.  Or
we may be captured; for, if the rascals carry out their present plans,
it will not be long before we shall have all the men-of-war in these
seas after us.  Or we may, perhaps, be able to effect our escape in a
boat.  That gig of ours, in which our friends have been sent ashore is a
splendid boat; and if we could get away in her whilst in some well-
beaten ship track, with a good stock of provisions, we might well hope
to be picked up in the course of a few days.  That, however, I should
only propose as a last resource.  But the more I think of it the less
hopeless do our prospects appear; so keep a good heart, Miss Stanhope,
and hope for the best.  By the by, do you know how to use a pistol?"

"Yes," said Sibylla, "I know how to use a revolver.  Duncan has--or
had--a pair; and when we were at home he taught Rose and me how to fire
them, putting up a target in the garden for us to shoot at.  Why do you
ask?"

"Because--although I think there is not much ground for apprehension--it
will do no harm if you have a weapon upon which you can lay your hand in
case of need.  I have a pair of small revolvers which, though they are
not very formidable weapons for long-distance shooting, are tolerably
effective at close quarters, say within thirty yards or so.  I will give
you them--they are in a case, with cartridges and so on all complete;
and I should like you to keep them always loaded and handy.  And now, if
you feel sufficiently composed to be left alone, I think I will go out
on deck again and see how matters are progressing there."

When Ned reached the poop, to which he naturally directed his steps, he
found Williams there, fuming at the protracted absence of the boats,
which could clearly be seen, with their noses hauled up on the sandy
beach, and the two boat-keepers sitting in lazy attitudes on their
gunwales, quietly smoking.  That the remainder of the crews were not
delayed by assisting the marooned passengers to "shake down" was
evidenced by the fact that the latter could be seen grouped together on
a little grassy knoll, the ladies and children seated upon boxes, whilst
the two men were vigorously attacking with their axes a couple of young
straight-stemmed palms at no great distance.

"What can the rascals be about?" growled Williams impatiently.  "I'll
bet anything they are off skylarking in the woods, instead of hurrying
back to the ship, as they ought.  For'ard, there! pass the word for the
boatswain to clear away one of those signal-guns.  We'll give them a
shot by way of a reminder to quicken their motions."

The gun was cleared away, loaded, and fired--not once but nearly a dozen
times before the laggards appeared.  They were seen at last, however,
hurrying down to the beach, in little straggling groups, one after the
other, and finally the boats pushed off and headed for the ship.

A quarter of an hour later they were alongside; and in another moment
the two men who had been sent away in charge stood on the quarter-deck,
confronting their angry chief.

"Come, Rogers I come, Martin! what the mischief have you been about,
keeping us dodging in the offing all this while?" demanded Williams
fiercely.  "Hook on the tackles, and let us be off," he continued.

"Wait a minute, cap'n," answered Rogers; "we've a bit of news for you
that I expect you won't particularly relish.  One of the men has cut and
run; and it was hunting for him that kept us ashore so long."

"Who is if!" demanded Williams.

"Why, it's Tom Nicholls, one of the steerage passengers that Blyth
shipped after we fell in with that barque on her beam-ends."

"So he has bolted, has he, the white-livered hound!" ejaculated Williams
furiously.  "Well, he shall not escape us.  Take your boats' crews, both
of you; give each man a rifle and half a dozen rounds of ball cartridge,
and pull ashore again and hunt the cur until you find him, and bring him
aboard here to me, dead or alive!  I'll anchor the ship and wait for
you, if it takes you a week to do the job."

"Ay, ay, we'll get him before the day is over, never fear!" exclaimed
Rogers, apparently in high glee at receiving the brutal order.  "Come
along, mates, and get your rifles; it isn't every day that we get the
chance of such a spree as a man-hunt!"

The boats' crews had, during this short colloquy, scrambled up the
ship's side to the deck, and had gathered round the speakers, curious to
see how Williams would receive the news of the loss; and it was to these
that Rogers had addressed himself.

They did not, however, appear to by any means enter into the spirit of
the thing, hanging back so coldly unresponsive to the mate's jovial
invitation that the latter paused in blank astonishment.

"Why--why--what the--" began Rogers, when he was brusquely interrupted
by one of the men, who stepped forward and said:

"Get somebody else to go in my place, matey.  I don't understand man-
huntin', as you calls it, and should only make a poor fist at it, I'm
afraid."

"Same here," said another.  "I never done anything of the sort yet, and
don't know how to set about it."

The others were expressing themselves to the same effect, when Williams
darted forward, and, seizing the first speaker roughly by the collar,
savagely demanded:

"Look here, you scoundrel, do you mean to say that you _won't_ go?"

"Ay, ay, shipmate, that's just exactly what I _do_ mean," was the
answer, given good-naturedly enough.  "But take your hand off my
collar," the man continued more sternly.  "Two can play at that game,
you know; and I doubt whether you are man enough to thrash me."

Williams, white as death with passion, prudently withdrew his hand from
the man's collar, and stepped back a pace or two.

"What does this mean?" he demanded.  "Are you going to mutiny, men,
before our cruise has even commenced?"

An insolent laugh greeted this inquiry; and the man who had just spoken
answered:

"Call it what you like, Cap'n Josh; mutiny is as good a name for it as
any other, I reckon.  And what I mean is, that I, for one, ain't goin'
ashore on no man-huntin' expedition.  There was nothing said about man-
huntin' when the articles for this here cruise was drawed up; and what I
say is, if Tom Nicholls wants to cut and run, let him do it."

"Ay, ay; so says I," added another of the men.  "He never entered into
the thing with no spirit, anyhow; and if he'd rather be ashore there
than makin' his fortune aboard here with us, why, let him stay ashore,
says I.  `No manhuntin'' is my sentiments."

Several of the other men now declared themselves to the same effect,
whereupon Williams, finding himself in the minority, said, with as
perfect an assumption of indifference as he could command at the moment:

"Very well, lads; just as you please.  It was of you, not of myself,
that I was thinking.  The work will be so much the heavier for you if
Nicholls is allowed to escape; but, if you do not mind it, I am sure I
need not.  If, as you say, the fool prefers slaving ashore there for a
bare living to making his fortune with us afloat, let him go.  Up with
the boats, and be smart about it!  Up with your helm, abaft there, and
let her go off square before the wind!  Square the main-yard; and away
aloft there, some of you, and rig out the topmast and topgallant-
studding-sail booms!"

These orders were rapidly obeyed.  The ship squared away before a
freshening breeze; and two hours later the island was left so far astern
that a landsman might easily have mistaken it for a grey cloud on the
edge of the horizon.

The ship was kept running to the eastward all that day under studding-
sails, and by sunset had travelled a distance of nearly seventy miles.
At that hour, however, Ned requested that sail might be shortened and
the ship allowed to go along under easy canvas during the night, urging
the experience of the morning as a reason for caution whilst navigating
that comparatively unknown sea.  Williams at once assented to the
suggestion, remarking immediately afterwards to Rogers, with a self-
satisfied chuckle:

"That was a rare good move of ours, Bill, to keep the young woman
aboard.  See how cautious Mr Ned has grown all of a sudden!  You may
take my word for it, there will be no more tumbling over islands so long
as she remains aboard of us."

As it happened, it was just as well that the precaution was taken; for
at midnight, just as the watch was being relieved, breakers were
discovered ahead, and the ship was only brought to the wind just barely
in time to avert a disaster.  But even then the craft was by no means
out of danger; for, when an attempt was made to claw off from the reefs
to leeward, it was soon discovered that the vessel was embayed, other
reefs being found to exist both to the northward and to the southward of
her.  For a few minutes something very like a panic took possession of
the mutineers; but Williams proved himself equal to the occasion,
stilling the tumult by a few brief authoritative words, and promptly
ordering a man into the chains with the lead.  Soundings were taken and
a sandy bottom found, with just the right depth of water for anchoring.
So the cable was roused on deck and bent on to the best bower, the ship
making short reaches to the northward and southward meanwhile; and as
soon as everything was ready a position was taken as nearly as possible
midway between the reefs, and the anchor let go in twelve fathoms of
water, with sixty fathoms of chain outside the hawse-pipe.  The canvas
was securely furled, the watch set, with one man told off to tend the
lead-line which was dropped over the side to show whether the anchor
held securely or not, and then nothing remained for them but to wait,
with what patience they could muster, for daybreak.

This was a somewhat trying ordeal; for the night was pitch dark--the
moon being new and not a star visible, the sky overcast, and the wind
fresh and at times gusty.  Moreover, they could form but a very vague
idea of the dangers by which they were surrounded, the chart showing
nothing but a clear sea; and, to further increase their anxiety, there
was a heavy ground-swell rolling in from the westward, which caused the
ship to bury herself to her hawse-pipes.  Altogether, what with the
uncertainty of their position, the inky darkness, and the ominous roar
of the breakers all round them, it was a very anxious time for everybody
on board the _Flying Cloud_.

At length, after what seemed an eternity of darkness, the harassed
watchers caught the first faint signs of returning day.  The forms of
the clouds became dimly perceptible along the horizon to the eastward;
then the cloud-bank itself broke up, revealing little patches here and
there of soft violet-tinted sky, which rapidly paled, first to a pure
and delicate ultramarine, and then to a soft primrose hue before the
approaching dawn.  The leaden-tinted clouds imperceptibly assumed a
purple hue, then their lower edges became fringed with gold; and
presently a long shaft of white light shot from the horizon half-way to
the zenith, tinging the higher clouds--now broken up into a crowded
archipelago of aerial islets--with flakes of "celestial rosy red," and
in another moment the golden upper rim of the sun's disk flashed on the
horizon, sending a long path of shimmering radiance across the bosom of
the heaving, restless sea; and it was day.

The awkward character of the predicament in which the ship was involved
now became sufficiently apparent.  To the eastward and astern of her a
small island, measuring about two miles from north to south, was seen.
Its shores were indented and rocky, the surf beating upon them with
great violence; and between it and the ship, at a distance nowhere
greater than a mile, there lay an extensive crescent-shaped reef, almost
completely encircling the unfortunate craft.  The swell, rolling heavily
in from the westward, hurled itself with appalling fury upon this reef,
the far-reaching expanse of white water revealing distinctly the
extremity of the peril through which the ship had passed during the
previous night.  Indeed, it was difficult to understand how she had
escaped at all, for the opening between the two horns of the reef was so
narrow that he would have been a bold navigator who would willingly have
risked the passage, even in broad daylight.

Williams' first act was to summon Rogers and Martin, in whose company he
paid a visit to the fore-topmast cross-trees, where the trio devoted a
full half-hour to a careful and critical examination of the ship's
position.  Fortunately there was no occasion for haste, the anchor
maintaining a firm grip of the ground, notwithstanding the occasional
heavy plunges of the ship when some exceptionally big roller came
sweeping in unbroken through the narrow channel in the reef.  It was
possible, therefore, for the mutineers to weigh well the advisability of
the steps they contemplated, and to act with due caution.  The cross-
trees afforded a clear and thoroughly comprehensive view of the entire
reef; and from this lofty stand-point the position of the ship was seen
to be much less critical than it had appeared to be when viewed from the
deck below.  The _Flying Cloud_ was, in fact, found to be lying in about
the centre of a natural harbour.  True, it was rather a wild berth for a
ship, especially in the particular spot which she then occupied--this
spot happening to be exactly opposite the opening in the reef and fully
exposed to the unbroken run of the sea--but it was seen that by moving
her half a cable's-length either to the north or south the craft would
be sheltered by one of the arms of the reef, and, with a couple of
anchors down, might hope to ride out a moderately heavy gale in safety.

This was all very well, and very satisfactory--so far as it went--for it
relieved their minds of all anxiety respecting the immediate safety of
the ship.  But, safe as she might be for the moment, the spot was not
one in which a prudent mariner would linger one unnecessary instant; and
Williams' only anxiety just then was how to get out.

The channel into this natural harbour trended as nearly as possible due
east and west; and, with the wind as it then stood, the ship, in order
to get to sea, would have to make a series of short tacks to windward.
But the opening was so narrow and tortuous that the little party in the
cross-trees considered it exceedingly doubtful whether this would be
possible with so lengthy a ship as the _Flying Cloud_; and, for the
moment, it looked very much as though they would have to remain where
they were until a change of wind should occur to release them.

At length, however, an expedition in the gig to the mouth of the channel
was decided upon, and Ned--who had already distinguished himself by the
exhibition of an altogether exceptional aptitude and dexterity in his
handling of the ship--was instructed to join the party.  The boat was
soon lowered and manned, and, with Williams, Rogers, and Ned in the
stern-sheets, pulled away towards the entrance.  They had had the
precaution to provide themselves with a hand-lead; and as soon as the
channel was reached a very complete set of soundings, from end to end
and over its entire width, was taken under Ned's supervision.  The
result was unexpectedly satisfactory, no detached rocks being found in
the fairway, whilst a tolerably even depth of water, nowhere less than
five fathoms, and extending right up alongside the edge of the reef,
prevailed throughout the entire length of the channel.

The progress of this survey was watched with the utmost anxiety by
Williams--who, indeed, actually took the soundings with his own hands;
and upon its completion he was so intensely gratified at the way in
which this important service had been executed that he actually went the
length of stammering out a few half-intelligible words of thanks to Ned.

The only question now remaining for settlement was, whether it would be
prudent to make the attempt to work the ship out to sea.  All hands were
most keenly anxious to get clear of the place, for, safe as the ship
just then undoubtedly was, they knew that it might prove a death-trap to
them if it came on to blow heavily from the westward; but they also had
the sense to know that a single mistake or miscalculation on the part of
the person working the ship would send her on to the reef, a hopeless
wreck.

Rogers and the boat's crew were unanimously of opinion that the project
was an impossibility; Williams expressed his belief that the thing
_might_ be done, but he at the same time frankly confessed that he had
not faith enough in himself to undertake the responsibility.  Ned
prudently kept his opinion to himself until he was directly appealed to,
when he modestly said that, with a smart hand at the wheel, a keen look-
out aloft to warn him of the presence of any sunken rocks which might
perchance have escaped their search, and a lively crew at the sheets and
braces, he believed he would be able to work the ship into open water.

"Then," exclaimed Williams with an oath, "you shall try your hand at the
job.  But remember," he added, "if the ship touches anywhere, though it
be only lightly enough to just graze the paint off her bottom, you may
look out for squalls!"

"Now, look here, Williams," answered Ned hotly, "if you want me to do my
best for you, you had better be somewhat more sparing with your threats;
and unless you withdraw what you have just said I shall decline to have
anything to do with this matter.  The task you have asked me to
undertake is a most difficult and delicate one.  I am quite willing to
do my best, if you see fit to intrust me with the care of the ship, but
it is a case in which even so slight a matter as a temporary flaw in the
wind may bring about a very serious accident.  If, therefore, I am to
make the attempt, it must be with the distinct understanding that I am
not to be held responsible for anything which may happen."

"What d'ye think, mates? dare we trust him?" asked Williams, appealing
to Rogers and the other men in the boat.

They said they thought that Ned's objection was quite fair and
reasonable; and Rogers, unceremoniously changing places with Ned,
whispered something in Williams' ear, whereupon the latter said:

"Very well.  Will you swear, Ned, to honestly do your best to get the
ship out of the fix she is now in, and to navigate her safely into open
water?"

"Certainly I will, if you wish it," answered Ned, "but a little
reflection would convince you, I think, that I must be as little anxious
as any of you to be cast away in such an unpromising spot as this."

"All right, then," said Williams; "we'll chance it.  Give way, men, for
the ship."

A quarter of an hour later all hands were once more on board, the boat
was hoisted up to the davits, and the word was passed to man the
windlass and heave short.



CHAPTER NINE.

THE CAPTAIN'S DENUNCIATION.

"Now, Ned," said Williams as the windlass-pawls began to clank, "you are
in charge of the ship, mind, until she is in the blue water once more;
and all hands, myself included, are ready to obey your orders, whatever
they may be.  You want a smart hand at the wheel, you say, and another
as a look-out aloft.  I intend, therefore, to take the wheel myself; and
Rogers, who has the quickest eye on board the ship, will station himself
on the fore-topsail-yard to watch for the rocks you spoke about.  The
rest of the hands will be stationed at the sheets and braces, with
orders to let go and haul the moment you give the word.  So, with this
arrangement, if anything goes wrong you will not be able to say that any
of us were to blame."

"All right," cried Ned, "I am quite satisfied with the arrangement; and
I will do my best, as I said, to take the ship safely through.  As there
is a good steady breeze blowing I shall work her under topsails,
topgallant-sails, jibs, and spanker, with the courses in the brails
ready for an emergency, but not set; as presently, when we get into the
narrowest part of the passage, our boards will be so short that the men
would not be able to get down the tacks and sheets before it will be
time to heave in stays again.  When the cable is shortened in to twenty-
fathoms let the hands go aloft and loose the canvas."

"Right you are," said Williams, turning away and walking forward to
superintend operations on the forecastle.

The men roused the cable in to the inspiriting strains of a lively
"shanty;" and before long Rogers' voice was heard announcing the news
that the twenty-fathom shackle was inside the hawse-pipe.

"Away aloft and loose the canvas" was now the word, upon which the men
deserted the windlass; and whilst some swarmed aloft to cast off the
gaskets from the upper sails others laid out upon the jib-boom to loose
the jibs, the residue scattering about the decks to attend to the calls
of their shipmates aloft to "let go the main-topgallant-clewlines" and
to perform other similar operations of an equally mysterious character--
mysterious, at least, to Sibylla, who, at a hint from Ned, had ventured
out on deck to look abroad upon the unwonted scene, and to watch the
passage of the ship through the reef.

In thus summoning Sibylla from the seclusion of her own cabin Ned
honestly believed that his only motive was to do the poor girl a
service.  He said to himself that she would be far better on deck,
breathing the fresh air and stimulated by the healthy excitement of a
little peril, than she would be if she remained below cooped up in a
stuffy state-room, fretting her heart out over matters that neither she
nor he could help.  Moreover, he was anxious that she should become
accustomed as quickly as possible to the novelty of being the only woman
on board, and accustomed, too, to the idea of coming and going as freely
about the decks as she had done before the mutiny.  And if, in addition
to these motives, there lurked another far down in the depths of Ned's
heart, making him anxious that Sibylla should see for herself how
valuable, and indeed indispensable, his services were to the mutineers,
who shall blame him?

With the usual amount of bustle on board a merchantman the canvas was at
length set, the yards braced in the manner necessary for casting the
ship, and the men returned to the windlass--Williams walking aft and
standing by the wheel, whilst Rogers and Martin remained on the
forecastle to superintend the operation of getting the anchor.  Williams
was evidently very much pleased at the prospect of getting out to sea
again, for as he passed Sibylla he raised his hat with more grace than
could have been expected of him and wished her "good-morning!"--a
salutation which the young lady silently acknowledged with one of her
most stately bows.

Presently the cry came from Rogers:

"Anchor's aweigh, sir."

"Very well," said Ned; "rouse it up to the bows smartly, cat it, and
then range along your cable all ready for letting go again if need be.
Flatten in your larboard jib-sheets for'ard; man your larboard fore-
braces and brace the headyards sharp up.  Hard a-starboard with your
helm, Williams--she has stern-way upon her.  And you Rogers, away aloft
and keep a sharp look-out for sunken rocks.  Martin will see to the
catting of the anchor."

Fully alive to the necessity for prompt obedience to the orders which
had been given them, the crew sprang to their several stations and did
their work with a smartness which would have been creditable even on
board a man-of-war; and in another minute the ship had paid handsomely
off on the larboard tack, with her after-canvas clean full.

"Let draw your jib-sheets," now shouted Ned; "let go your larboard and
round-in upon your starboard fore-braces, and then lay aft here, two or
three of you, and haul out the spanker.  Steady the helm and meet her,
Williams.  Keep everything a-rap full and let her go through the water.
What is the latest news from the anchor for'ard there?"

"The stock is just coming out of the water, sir," answered Martin.

"That is right; up with it as smartly as you can, lads," urged Ned.
Then to Rogers:

"How are things looking from aloft, Rogers?"

"All right, sir--no rocks anywhere in the way as I can see, and deep
water right up to the edge of the reef," came the answer.

"That is well," commented Ned, walking to the lee rail to note the speed
of the ship through the water, and also to judge more accurately her
distance from the swirling masses of white water which marked the
position of the reef.

She was nearing the rocks fast and was already within a cable's-length
of them; and the men forward were beginning to cast anxious glances aft,
fearing that Ned was cutting his distance too fine.

But Ned knew perfectly well what he was about; with the utmost calmness
he gave the word "Stations!" and then, as the men sprang to obey the
order, he glanced aloft at the canvas.  Williams was performing his
share of the work with the skill of a most accomplished helmsman, and
all the canvas was clean full.

Now came the ticklish part of the business.  If Ned's judgment failed
him here the ship was as good as lost.  He took one more glance at the
breakers and then gave the word:

"Ready about!" followed immediately by the customary "Helm is a-lee!" at
the same moment signing to Williams to put the helm down.

The wheel, under the influence of a single vigorous impulse from
Williams' sinewy arm, went whirling round until it was hard over, when
he caught and grasped the spokes and held it there.  The ship swept
gracefully up into the wind with her white canvas fluttering so
violently as to make the stout craft tremble to her keel; and, shaving
the reef so closely that a vigorous jump would have launched a man from
her rail into the breakers alongside, she forged ahead and finally paid
off on the opposite tack.

So far, so good.  The ship was, however, still in the comparatively
spacious lagoon inside the reef.  The crucial test of Ned's ability
would come when she passed into the narrow tortuous channel leading
through the reef to the open sea.  But that one trial had sufficed to
demonstrate to Ned that the ship, even under the comparatively small
amount of canvas then set, was under perfect command; and he was,
moreover, just at that moment in that peculiar state of exhilaration
both of mind and body when no task seems impossible.  It was not likely,
therefore, that, with Sibylla's bright eyes regarding him with an eager
curiosity--which to him seemed not wholly devoid of interest--he should
shrink from any ordeal, however difficult.

But there was a peculiarly trying spot to be passed just at the inner
extremity of the channel, and the ship would probably reach it on her
next board.  It behoved Ned, therefore, to dismiss from his mind all
thoughts not strictly appertaining to the business in hand; and, like
the sensible, practical fellow he was, he did so.  Standing on a hen-
coop, with one hand lightly grasping the mizen-topmast backstay, he
sought and soon found the spot, which he carefully watched until he
considered that the ship had run far enough to reach it on the next
tack.  He then gave the word "Ready about!" and immediately tacked the
ship.  The exceeding awkwardness of the passage consisted in the fact
that, at the particular point referred to, the channel through the reef
for a length of about sixteen hundred feet was only about three hundred
feet wide, whilst its direction was dead in the wind's eye as it then
blew.  Hence it was quite impossible to work the ship through this
narrow "gut" in the ordinary way.  Two small coves of unbroken--and
therefore deep--water had been discovered on the north side of this
narrow passage during the preliminary exploration; but they trended in
the wrong direction and were so very narrow that Williams, on seeing
them, at once declared them useless for all practical purposes.  Ned,
however, thought differently, and it was indeed upon the existence of
these two indentations that he based his hope of success in an effort
that, under other circumstances, it would have been sheer madness to
attempt.

The ship tacked with the same admirable precision as before, and on
gathering way was found to be looking well up for the entrance to the
narrow channel.  The distance to be traversed was no great matter, and
Ned consequently kept all hands at their stations; but the anxious looks
which they cast, first at him and next at the formidable barrier of
rocks to leeward, showed plainly enough how completely puzzled they were
as to the manner in which Ned was to deal with the difficulty which
faced him.  In less than five minutes from the moment of tacking the
ship reached the opening, and as she glided across the narrow channel
Ned signed to Williams to put the helm gradually down.  The result was
that the ship shot easily up into the wind; and the moment that all her
canvas was a-shiver Ned ordered the helm amidships.  This manoeuvre
caused the ship to shoot for a considerable distance along the channel
right in the wind's eye; and before she entirely lost her way she had,
as Ned had calculated she would, forged past the opening giving access
to the first cove or indentation in the reef.  The square canvas was now
thrown flat aback and the ship soon gathered stern-way, when, by a
judicious and skilful manipulation of the helm and braces, a stern-board
was made and the vessel backed into the indentation and to its farthest
extremity, a distance of about two cables'-lengths.  The yards were then
braced round and the canvas filled on the starboard tack, when, the ship
gathering headway, she went booming down the indentation again and
rushed once more into the narrow channel; when, having by this manoeuvre
acquired sufficient "way" or momentum, the same tactics were a second
time resorted to in order to get her past the second indentation, upon
emerging from which she entered a wider reach of the channel where there
was room to work her in the ordinary way.  Thenceforward there was no
further difficulty, except that in one rather awkward spot a sunken rock
was encountered, which Ned, being duly apprised of its position by
Rogers, avoided by the masterly execution of a half-board.  A quarter of
an hour later saw the _Flying Cloud_ gliding out of the last reach of
the channel to windward of everything, and five minutes afterwards
Williams resigned the wheel to the man who had gone aft to relieve him,
and resumed command of the ship; saying to Ned as he dismissed him:

"You have done exceedingly well, young gentleman; and I thank you not
only for myself but also for all hands.  It was, no doubt, your
foresight and the caution you gave us last night that saved the ship
from wreck on yonder reef; and you have this morning got us out of a
difficulty which a slight increase of wind would have made a most
serious one.  We are very greatly indebted to you; and if ever you
should require a favour at my hands remind me of this morning, and if it
is possible to grant that favour with safety to ourselves it shall be
granted.  And now, tell me what you think of yon island as a dwelling-
place for Captain Blyth?"

"I should think it would serve fairly well," said Ned, inwardly
rejoicing at the prospect of the skipper being put on shore within such
comparatively easy reach of the other party.  "The island is large
enough to support a hundred people, for that matter.  It is as much out
of the way as any other place we are likely to fall in with; and I have
no doubt but that round on the lee side of it we shall meet with smooth
water and a beach upon which to effect a landing."

"So I think," returned Williams.  "At all events," he continued, "we
will run round to leeward and have a look at the place.  And in the
meantime you may as well go and tell the skipper and young Manners to
hold themselves in readiness to leave the ship--if the place looks
promising I shall land them _both_ here.  And when you have spoken to
them you may look out a few things--as well as all their own
belongings--which will help to make them comfortable.  We have no ill-
feeling toward either of them, and it will be a satisfaction to remember
that we left them with the means of taking care of themselves."

"All right," said Ned; "I will do so."  And he hurried away upon his
errand, which he was anxious to fully accomplish whilst Williams'
extraordinary fit of good-nature still remained upon him.

Captain Blyth and young Manners were, it will be remembered, confined in
the forward deck-house; and thither Ned at once made his way.  The
sliding-door was closed, and secured by a hasp and staple which had been
put on since Ned had last visited the place.  Withdrawing the pin and
folding back the hasp, the lad slid the door open and entered--to start
back horrified at the sight which met his gaze.  The two prisoners were
there, with their feet in irons, the skipper being seated on one side of
the small table which occupied the centre of the berth, and Manners on
the other side.  It was not their condition, however, nor the fact that
they were in irons, which startled Ned; they were clean and comfortable-
looking enough, both in person and in dress, to show that they had been
fairly well looked after; it was the dreadfully haggard and worn look of
the skipper.  The poor fellow looked twenty years older than when Ned
had seen him last; he was wasted almost to the condition of a skeleton.
The skin of his forehead and the outer corners of his eye-sockets was
furrowed and wrinkled and crow's-footed like that of an old man of
eighty; and his hair was thickly streaked with grey.

As Ned entered, both prisoners rose to their feet, and Captain Blyth,
stretching out his hand in welcome, exclaimed with emotion:

"At last--at last!  I _knew_ you would be true to me, Ned, my dear lad--
I said so, over and over again; did I not, Manners?  And now you are
come with good tidings; I can see it in your face.  What is it boy!  Out
with it.  I have been terribly shaken by this villainous mutiny, but my
nerves are yet strong enough to bear the shock of good news, so out with
it; do not keep us in suspense, dear lad."

It was pitiful to Ned to listen to the yearning tones of anxious
entreaty in which the poor fellow uttered those last words, and to feel
that he had not a single scrap of comfort to offer; but his task was
before him.  He had to execute it, and he determined to do it as gently
as possible, and to put matters in the most hopeful light he could on
the spur of the moment.

"Yes," began Ned, "I _have_ come with what I hope will prove to be good
tidings, though, perhaps, they may not strike you as such at the outset;
and I deeply regret to say that they are certainly not such as you seem
to have been looking for.  The ship is still in the hands of the
mutineers, notwithstanding all the plotting and scheming of Mr Gaunt,
Doctor Henderson, and myself; Williams and the rest of the people have
been too watchful for us to take them by surprise, and we were not
strong enough to attempt force with them.  And now--the passengers, all
but Miss Stanhope, being landed, as I suppose you know--I fear that the
poor _Flying Cloud_ will have to remain in the rascals' hands; at all
events until we get into more frequented waters, when you may depend
upon it I shall make desperate efforts, and leave no feasible plan
untried to secure the capture of the ship.  But, in the meantime, I have
been instructed by Williams to inform you that you are to hold
yourselves in readiness to be landed on the island yonder, which you may
see through the starboard window.  This, I hope, will be good news to
you both, for you will at least be _free_--free not only from your
present confinement, but also free to act; free to devise and to carry
out means for your escape from the island, and your speedy restoration
to civilisation.  I am instructed to say that all your personal effects
will be rendered up to you; and I have orders to get together a few
things to make you comfortable.  So now, if you will name what things
you would most desire to have, I will jot down a list of them, and do
all I possibly can to ensure your getting them."

"So--so; that is how the land lies, is it?" remarked the skipper
thoughtfully, when Ned had brought his story to a close.  "And, pray,
what are they going to do with _you_, young gentleman, if I may presume
to ask?"

"Don't speak like that, Captain Blyth, I beg," protested Ned, deeply
hurt by the tone of suspicion in which the skipper's question had been
put.  "I am just as helpless as yourselves in this matter.  They have
determined to keep me on board to navigate the ship for them; and, with
a malignant ingenuity which would never have occurred to anybody but
Williams, they have also detained Miss Stanhope to act as hostage and
security for my fidelity and good behaviour, informing me that anything
like treachery, or even a mistake on my part, will be visited upon
_her_."

"Poor girl! poor girl!--and poor lad, too, for that matter!" ejaculated
the skipper.  "Forgive me, Ned, if for a moment I fancied that you had
been led astray by those scoundrels and tempted to cast in your lot with
them.  I might have known better; but this mutiny seems somehow to have
strained my mental faculties until sometimes I almost think they are
stranded and ready to carry away altogether.  It is the first time that
anything of the kind ever happened to me; the first time.  Ah, well!--
but I must not let these thoughts run away with me; our time together is
short, and I have one or two questions to ask you.  And, first of all,
when and where did you land the passengers?"

"We landed them yesterday," answered Ned; "did you not know it?  I
thought it would be quite impossible to keep that fact from your
knowledge."

"No, Ned, not quite impossible.  I heard the boats lowered, and caught a
few words here and there, which gave me an idea of what was happening;
but we were shut up here with that surly fellow, Carrol, as guard over
us, and he would neither tell us anything nor allow us to so much as
glance out through the side-light to ascertain for ourselves what was
going on.  So you landed them yesterday, eh?"

"Yes," said Ned; "on an island exactly one hundred miles due west of
us--"

"Stop a moment," interrupted the skipper; "let me make a mental note of
that.  `One hundred miles due west of us;' that is to say, one hundred
miles due west of the island where we are going to be landed.  Is that
it?"

Ned nodded.

"Very well," continued the skipper, "I shall remember that.  Do you
think you can bear that in mind, Mr Manners?"

"Certainly, sir," answered Manners.  "That is an easy thing to
remember."

"Very well," said his superior.  "Now go on, Ned, and tell us what the
island is like."

Ned gave as accurate a description as he could of the place,
supplementing it with a careful pencil sketch from memory on a leaf torn
from his pocket-book, showing the island as it would appear to a person
approaching it from the eastward, and winding up with the statement that
he believed it would be possible to distinguish the top of the
mountain--the highest point of the island--from the spot where they
were, on a clear day.

"Thank you, Ned; that is capital," said the skipper, with renewed
animation, as the lad finished his statement and handed over the sketch.
"Now," he continued, "do you know what I mean to do?"

"I fancy I can guess," answered Ned.  "Unless I am mistaken, it is your
intention to rejoin the passengers as soon as possible."

"Precisely," agreed the skipper.  "You could not have hit it off more
accurately if you had tried for an hour.  Yes; these villains are going
to put it most effectually out of my power to do my duty to my owners,
but they shall not prevent me from doing my duty to my passengers.
Manners and I will make our way to that island as soon as ever we can
knock something together to carry us there.  Poor souls!  I hope they
will manage to keep soul and body together until we can get to them.
After that I flatter myself that matters will not go so very hard with
them after all."

"Quite so, sir," said Ned.  "From the moment that Williams announced his
intention of putting you ashore here, the thought has been in my mind
that it would be a good thing for all hands if you could manage to join
Mr Gaunt and his party."

But whilst he said this, the lad could not help smiling at the
unconscious egotism displayed by the skipper in his last remark; Ned's
own private opinion being that, with a man of such inexhaustible
resource as the engineer had proved himself to be, at the helm of
affairs, the little party on the island were likely to get on almost as
well without Captain Blyth as with him.  He had, however, far too much
respect for his commander to allow this idea to reveal itself either in
his speech or his manner.

"Very well," said the skipper, in reply to Ned's last remark, "you now
know our intentions, so I will trouble you, Ned--since I understand you
to say that Williams has commissioned you to look out a few things for
us--to look out as good a supply as you can of such things as will
enable us to carry out our plans.  We shall want first a small supply of
provisions and water to carry us along until we can get into the way of
foraging for ourselves.  Next, we shall want arms and plenty of
ammunition.  And, after that, our wants, I think, will be confined to a
few useful and handy tools, and as much rope and canvas, and as many
nails as you can persuade them to spare us.  If there is anything else
you can think of which will be likely to be useful, just heave it into
the boat with the rest of the things, will ye?"

"Ay, ay, sir, I will," answered Ned.  "You may rely upon my doing the
very best they will allow me to do for you.  And now, sir, as time
presses, and I may not have a better opportunity, let me say good-bye to
you both.  God bless you, Captain Blyth, and you, too, Manners, and may
the day not be far distant when we shall all meet once more in peace and
safety."

"Good-bye, Ned, dear boy," answered the skipper, with deep emotion;
"good-bye, and God bless _you_ and that poor dear girl who shares your
cruel captivity.  May He preserve you both, protect you from all evil,
and, in His own good time, accord you a happy deliverance from the
wretches who now hold you in bondage.  We have had no time to talk about
yourself and your own plans for the future; but I have no fear for you,
boy.  Yours is an old head though it is on young shoulders; and I firmly
believe that by and by you will somehow manage to handsomely give the
rascals the slip and carry off that poor girl with you.  Good-bye, my
lad, once more; good-bye and God bless you!"

Ned grasped the outstretched hands which were offered him and, too
deeply moved for speech, wrung them silently, after which he beat a
hasty retreat, and forthwith set himself about the task of providing as
plentiful a supply as he dared of all those articles which the skipper
had enumerated.

Ned had scarcely finished his task when the ship rounded-to under the
lee of the island, which was now discovered to be a small affair of
about three miles long by two miles wide, or thereabouts, its greatest
elevation being perhaps two hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level.
Like the island on which the passengers had been landed, its most rugged
face seemed to be turned to the westward, the eastern side sloping
gradually to the water's-edge, where it terminated in a smooth sandy
beach, upon which a landing might be effected without difficulty.  For a
distance of about half a mile inland from the beach the ground was
carpeted with a smooth velvety green-sward, the rest of the island
appeared to be densely wooded.

"That will do!" exclaimed Williams, as he closed his telescope, after a
long and searching examination of the place; "the spot is quite large
enough to enable a couple of men to pick up a living upon it, and I see
no sign of savages anywhere about.  Lower away the quarter-boat and
bundle those things down into her.  Have you looked out all you think
they will need, Ned?"

"Yes," said Ned, who was most anxious that his collection should not be
subjected to too close a scrutiny--"yes, I think they may perhaps manage
to rub along and make themselves fairly comfortable in time with what I
have put out for them.  And, if I may be allowed to offer a suggestion,
I would advise that the landing should be effected as speedily as
possible, for when I was in the saloon just now I noticed that the glass
showed a slight tendency to fall, a warning which ought not to be
neglected in these seas."

"Ay, ay, that's true enough!" ejaculated Williams, in some alarm.  "Look
alive with the boat, there, you, Martin tumble the things in, and let's
get the job over as quick as possible."

"No, no," said Ned, "there is no need for _quite_ so much hurry as all
that, and I must beg that you will handle those cases carefully or their
contents will be spoilt or wasted and two human lives placed in
jeopardy, which _you_, Williams, I know, would be the last to wish.  If
you have no objection I will superintend the loading of the boat myself,
and whilst that is going forward I hope you will allow Captain Blyth and
Mr Manners to step into the saloon and say good-bye to Miss Stanhope.
It can cause no possible harm, and I am sure the young lady would like
it."

"Very well," said Williams, after a moment's consideration; "I have no
objection.  Rogers, let the prisoners' irons be knocked off, and then
send them into the saloon until the boat is ready to take them ashore."

Sibylla was at that moment on the poop affecting to inspect the island
through her own private binocular, but in reality--having overheard
Williams' announcement of his intention to land the two officers there--
watching for an opportunity to say good-bye to the hapless men.  Ned,
whose intuition was peculiarly quick and sensitive where this young lady
was concerned, had divined her wishes in an instant, hence the
suggestion he had thrown out; and the moment Sibylla heard that her
desire was to be granted she hastened down into the saloon to await with
a beating heart and swimming eyes the arrival of her two friends.

In a few minutes Captain Blyth and Bob Manners entered the cabin,
accompanied by and apparently in the custody of Rogers, who seemed
undecided whether to go or stay during the progress of the interview.

Sibylla detected the fellow's state of indecision in a moment, and at
once helped him to make up his mind.

"Thank you, Mr Rogers," said she, with one of her most radiant smiles.
"Oblige me by placing chairs for the two gentlemen, if you please; and
would you be so kind as to close the door as you pass out--so that we
may not be interrupted, you know?"

"Yes, miss, cert'nly," stammered the bewildered Rogers, nastily
fulfilling her bidding, and as hastily effecting his bungling retreat.

"Oh, Captain Blyth, I am so pleased to see you--and so sorry!" burst out
Sibylla, as she clasped the skipper's hand and gazed tearfully into his
care-worn face.  "How you must have suffered all this cruel time, pent
up there in that horrid, _horrid_ place!  Do you know, I have tried, oh,
ever so many times, to get permission to go and sit with you and cheer
you up a bit, but those dreadful wretches would not allow it; and at
last Ned--that is--I mean--Mr Damerell said perhaps I had better not
try any more, as my evident sympathy with you might only make them angry
and result in your further ill-treatment.  And now they are going to put
you on shore on a wretched desert island--as they did with my poor
sister and Lucille and--and the rest yesterday, and you are come to bid
me good-bye."

"Yes, my dear, yes," said the skipper huskily, "that is just about the
sum and substance of it.  But don't you trouble about us, or about your
sister and the rest of them either for that matter.  We shall be all
right, never fear.  The island yonder, though it is but a small strip of
a place, is not exactly a desert by what I could see of it as I came
aft; there is grass and trees--and, no doubt, water--upon it; and where
such things are to be found it ought to be no very hard matter for a
couple of handy men like Manners here and myself to pick up a living for
a month or two, which is as long as we intend to remain upon it.  For,
hark ye, my dear," continued the skipper, sinking his voice to a whisper
of mystery, "the moment that this ship is fairly out of sight we are
going to set to work upon a boat, and as soon as ever she is finished it
is our intention to make sail for your sister's island.  Ned has told me
its whereabouts; and if they can only hold out until we reach them they
will be all right afterwards.  And, by this day twelvemonth, if all goes
well, we will not only be, all hands of us, back among civilised people,
but we will have half the men-of-war of the British navy scouring the
seas in search of you.  Do you think you can manage to hold out for so
long, my dear?"

"I don't know," said Sibylla, somewhat ruefully, "a year is a long time,
isn't it?  However," she continued, rather more cheerfully, "I hope we
may not have to wait so long as that; Mr Damerell is wonderfully
clever--as well as brave and gentle--and I know he is always thinking of
some plan of escape, and he speaks so cheerfully and hopefully that I
cannot but believe he will succeed.  And if he does not we are still not
absolutely helpless.  The mutineers are quite as much in Mr Damerell's
power as we are in theirs, for he says that not one of them possesses
the least knowledge of the science of navigation, and he therefore
believes that, for their own sakes, they will be civil to us both."

"Well, you are a plucky girl to keep up your spirits so well, and no
mistake!" ejaculated the skipper admiringly.  "I am glad to see it, and
shall now be able to say good-bye with an easier mind.  Keep up your
courage, my dear, and trust in God; He is as well able to take care of
you here as anywhere else, and He will, too, I am convinced.  And, after
God, my dear girl, put your trust in Ned; he is a true gentleman and a
brave, clever lad.  He will outwit those rascals yet, you mark my word;
and when he gives them the slip he is not the sort of lad to secure his
own safety and run off, leaving you in the lurch, so--"

"Boat's all ready, and waiting, gents, so look alive, please," here
interrupted Rogers, poking his head in at the cabin door, and as hastily
withdrawing it again.

"Well, then, the time has come for us to say good-bye," resumed the
skipper.  "I have said pretty nearly all I wanted to say, and the rest
is not of much consequence.  I am glad I have had the opportunity for
this little chat, and more glad than I can say to find you so brave and
hopeful.  Keep up your courage, my dear young lady; put your trust in
God, and whatever Ted tells you to do, do it at once and without asking
any questions, because whenever the moment for action comes, it will be
suddenly, unexpectedly, and there will be no time to spare for
explanations.  And now, good-bye, my dear girl; good-bye, and God bless
you."

In another moment the parting was over, and the two men stood at the
gangway, beneath which the boat was lying loaded and manned, and only
waiting for them to step into her before shoving off for the shore.

Young Manners at once went down the side and seated himself in the gig's
stern-sheets, and Captain Blyth prepared to follow him.  As he stood on
the rail, however, he turned and faced the men, who had all gathered in
the waist to witness his departure, and raised his hand for silence; a
signal which was instantly obeyed.

"Just a word or two before we part for ever, men," he said.  "You have a
noble ship under your feet, and you are doubtless flattering yourselves
that when you have once fairly rid yourselves of my presence, your
troubles--whatever they may be--will all be at an end.  You are
mistaken, however.  Until you and I are parted your crime is not
irreparable; it is even now not too late for you to repent and make
restitution, and so stave off the punishment which _must_ follow the
consummation of your wickedness.  You have a noble ship under you feet,
I say; and you probably think that in her you can defy the law, and
laugh to scorn the idea of capture.  But, men, whether you believe it or
not, _there is a God_ whose power is great enough to overturn your best
planned schemes in a moment, and think not that He will allow your sin
to go unpunished, or your plans for future crime to prosper.  At the
moment when you least expect it--when you are feeling most secure--His
vengeance will fall upon you as a consuming fire.  In His hands I leave
you."

And turning his back upon the mutineers, Captain Blyth quietly descended
the side-ladder, seated himself alongside Manners, and gave the order to
shove oh.



CHAPTER TEN.

REFUGE HARBOUR.

Captain Blyth's valedictory speech was not without its effect upon some
at least of the mutineers, who regarded each other with startled eyes,
which dumbly but plainly asked the question:

"Is what we are doing worth the risk?"

Williams--who, it need scarcely be said, was one of the hardened ones
upon whom the skipper's words produced no impression--saw plainly what
was passing in the minds of the others, and hastened to annul the effect
produced.

"That was a very clever speech of the old man's--very clever," he
remarked sardonically.  "There was only one fault about it, and that was
that he didn't speak the truth.  He spoke of our seizure of the ship as
a crime.  Well, maybe it is, according to the law, but we all know by
this time that the laws are made in favour of the rich and against the
poor; and we know, too, that law is not justice.  For my own part, when
I perform an act of justice I don't feel very particular about whether
what I am doing is legal or illegal, if it is _just_ it is quite
sufficient to satisfy my conscience.  The law, shipmates, is nothing--is
no safe guide for a man's conscience, for we know that many a wrong,
cruel, and unjust act is still perfectly legal--more shame to those that
have the making and the powers of the laws in their hands.  If you and I
had been dealt with _justly_ instead of merely legally, the money that
bought this ship and cargo would have gone into our pockets as wages for
the toil and hardship, the suffering and danger that we have been daily
exposed to, instead of going as profit into the pockets of the
merchants.  Therefore I maintain that in seizing this ship and her cargo
we have acted with strict justice, inasmuch as that we have merely taken
possession of what ought in justice to have been ours at the outset--we
have repaid ourselves a portion of the wages that we have been defrauded
of during the many years that we have followed the sea.  Why, mates, is
it fair, or reasonable, or just, to ask a man to risk his life every
day, as we do, for _three pounds a month_?  Why, if our wages were
_three pounds a day_ it would not be too much.  Reckon that up, you Bill
Rogers, for all the years you've been following the sea, and how much
will it amount to?  Why, a precious sight more than your share of this
ship and her cargo.  But, lads, we've agreed to have our dues, and we'll
have them, too, every penny of them; and if our only way of getting them
is by turning pirates, why let the blame rest with those who have driven
us to it.  Justice is our right, and we will have it, let who will
suffer for it, and upon that point we are all agreed.  Aren't we,
shipmates?"

"Ay, ay, of course we are--certainly, give us justice--give us our just
rights, we want no more," murmured the men in response to Williams'
appeal.

"There is only one thing I should like to know," remarked one man
timidly, "and that is, how we are going to manage without murder if
we're going into the pirating business?"

"Ha! is that you, Tom?" remarked Williams satirically.  "You are a
cautious one, _you_ are; don't want to run your neck into a noose, eh?
Well, you are quite right, shipmate, quite right.  But you need not
trouble yourselves, any of you, there will be no murder.  I have a plan
whereby we can avoid all unpleasantness of that kind, and still make
ourselves perfectly secure, and I will explain that plan to you in due
time, but not now; there are more important matters claiming my
attention at this moment.  Where is Ned?  Here, Ned, bring out the chart
and spread it upon the capstan-head, and you, lads, go to your
stations."

Upon which the men retired, their torpid consciences silenced, and
themselves more than half convinced of the righteousness of their
actions.  As for Ned, he muttered to himself as he went off to get the
chart:

"Clever fellow--very; a regular sea-lawyer!  Wonder who he is, and what
he was before he took to the sea?  Shall have all my work cut out to get
to windward of _him_."

Ned soon returned with the chart, which he spread open upon the capstan-
head as desired, when Williams and Rogers approached and regarded the
document with looks of the profoundest wisdom.

"A queer-looking spot, isn't it?" remarked Williams to his companion,
indicating with a rapid motion of his finger the entire area of ocean
lying between Celebes, New Guinea, and the northern coast of Australia.

"Very queer!" assented Rogers, with a solemnity in keeping with the
subject.

Whereupon the pair once more inspected the chart for several minutes
with the same look of preternatural wisdom as before, to Ned's intense
but covert amusement.

"Very well," said Williams at length, as though he had finally settled
some knotty point to his complete satisfaction.  "Now then, Ned, where
are we?"

Ned placed his finger on a blank part of the chart and answered, "Just
there."

"Yes," agreed Rogers, profoundly, "that's the very identical spot."

Williams glanced at Rogers with a broad smile of amusement, fully aware
that the latter understood a chart about as well as he understood
Sanscrit, and then turned to Ned with the remark:

"Now the next place we want, Ned, is a good harbour where the ship can
ride it out safely in all weathers, where we can heave her down, if need
be, to clear the weeds and barnacles off her bottom, and where we can
build stores and what not."

"Ah!" remarked Ned.  "That is a place which has yet to be found."

"Yes, of course, we know that," assented Williams sharply.  "The
question is, where ought we to look for it?  Of course you understand it
must be a place quite out of the regular track of ships, and not likely
to be visited."

"In that case," said Ned, "I know of no better place to search than our
present neighbourhood.  You see that the sea all round the spot where we
now are is marked `Unknown,' which means, of course, that very few ships
navigate these waters, and I fancy that such can scarcely be said of
many other parts of the ocean except such as lie pretty close to the
North and South Poles."

"Very well," said Williams, "in this matter we must trust to you, and we
will therefore search this `unknown' part of the sea.  You know best how
it should be done, so give your orders, and I will see that they are
carried out."

"In that case," said Ned, "my advice is this.  The wind is still
westerly, and a favourable opportunity is therefore afforded for the
prosecution of our search to the eastward.  Now, from our main-royal-
yard a man can see very nearly twenty miles--far enough, at all events,
to make out any land at that distance suitable for your purpose.  I
would propose, then, that we should work a traverse to the eastward,
sailing, say, one hundred miles on north by east a half east course, and
then wearing round and sailing two hundred miles on a south by east a
half east course.  This will enable us to examine a strip of sea two
hundred miles wide, whilst our northerly and southerly tracks will never
be so far apart but what we _must_ sight any land which happens to lie
within that two-hundred-mile-wide belt.  I would continue the search for
say two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles to the eastward; and
then, if you fail to find what you want, we must return and begin a
systematic search to the westward, unless indeed you feel inclined to
take the risk of venturing into better known waters.  At night I would
heave the ship to, with her canvas so balanced that she will make no
headway; and in this way, I think, we may manage to pretty thoroughly
explore the proposed track."

"Yes," said Williams thoughtfully, "that seems a very good plan.  What
do _you_ think of it, Rogers?"

"Capital!" observed Rogers approvingly; "couldn't be better.  If there's
any islands about we're bound to find 'em that way."

The man spoke in a tone of such thorough conviction that Williams turned
and scrutinised his face, as though wondering whether, perchance, the
fellow really happened to dimly understand the matter about which they
were talking, but the stolid features revealed nothing; so turning away
again with a quick smile, he said:

"Very well, Ned, we will try your plan and see what it leads to.  Ah!
here comes the boat; they are just shoving off from the beach.  Lay aft
here some of you; overhaul those davit-tackles, and then stand by to
hoist up the gig."

A quarter of an hour later the boat arrived alongside; she was hoisted
up, the main-yards were swung, and the ship glided away on a north by
east a half east course.

By sunset the ship, with the wind on her quarter, had run a distance of
about fifty miles, when she was brought to the wind and hove-to for the
night.  At daybreak next morning the quest was resumed; and at noon the
ship wore, her appointed distance of one hundred miles being completed.
This mode of procedure was persevered in until noon of the seventh day
after that on which they had landed Captain Blyth and Bob Manners,
during which interval several islands had been sighted and examined
without result, when, at the time named, Ned discovered by observation
that the ship was two hundred and five miles north-east by east of the
island which was now the home of those unfortunates.  He had just
completed his observations and calculations when the look-out aloft
reported land on the port bow.

Williams went aloft to take a look at the reported land for himself, and
invited Ned to accompany him.  The journey to the royal-yard was soon
accomplished, and the land was seen.  It lay on the horizon like a faint
grey cloud; indeed so thin and misty-looking was its appearance that an
untrained eye would assuredly have mistaken it for a bank of vapour; but
its outlines were so sharply-defined, and its shape so unchanging, that
the experienced eyes of the gazers recognised it at once for what it
was--namely, good solid earth.  It was a long distance off, however--
fully forty miles away according to Ned's estimate--and from its spread
along the horizon it seemed to be an island of considerable size.  The
ship was at once headed for it; but it was five bells in the afternoon
watch before it became visible from the deck, and at sunset the ship was
still six miles distant to the southward of it.  By that time, however,
it had become apparent that it was an island of some nine or ten miles
in length, with a pretty regular height of about four hundred feet above
the sea-level; and its appearance was so promising that it was resolved
to heave-to the ship for the night and give the place a thorough
examination on the following day.  The vessel was accordingly hove
about, with her head off the shore; sail was shortened to the three
topsails, jib, and spanker, the main-yard was laid aback, and then all
hands, except the officer of the watch and a couple of hands to look
out, were allowed to go below for the night.

At daybreak on the following morning the _Flying Cloud_ was once more
hove about and headed for the land under the same canvas which she had
carried during the night, one hand being sent into the main-chains with
the sounding-lead.  Soundings, in twenty-five fathoms, were struck at a
distance of about eight miles from the island; and thenceforward the
water shoaled pretty regularly up to a mile from the shore, at which
point a depth of five fathoms was met with.  This was on the south side
of the island, about two miles from its westernmost extremity, and
abreast of an inlet which had previously been discovered with the aid of
the ship's telescope.  The vessel was now again hove-to, and, a hasty
breakfast having been despatched, the gig was lowered and manned; and
Ned, accompanied by Rogers, and supplied with a sounding-line and
compass, was despatched in her to make a thorough examination of the
place.

The boat pulled in, and at length entered the inlet, passing abruptly
from the open sea into the shelter afforded by a bold rocky headland
about one hundred and fifty feet in height, round the base of which, and
over a short projecting reef, the heavy ground-swell dashed and swirled
and seethed in snow-white foam with a hoarse, thunderous, never-ceasing
roar.  This inlet extended in a north-west direction for a distance of a
mile and a quarter, its width decreasing from half a mile at the
entrance to rather over a quarter of a mile at its inner extremity, with
a tolerably regular depth of five and a half fathoms, until within half
a mile of its inner end, where the water shoaled to four and a quarter
fathoms.  The scenery was very striking and beautiful--a sheer
precipitous cliff, varying from one hundred and fifty to three hundred
feet in height, towering out of the clear translucent water on their
larboard hand as they passed in, whilst on their starboard hand the
ground sloped gently upward from the water's-edge for a distance of
about a mile and a half inland, where it cut the sky-line as an
undulating ridge some four hundred feet in height.  The outer or seaward
face of the island was densely wooded, the foliage being of every
conceivable shade of green, variegated in places with blossoms or
flowers, in some cases snow-white, in others a delicate pink; here a
deep rich golden yellow, there a tender blue, yonder a flaming scarlet,
and, perhaps a little further on, a deep glowing crimson or an imperial
purple.  And even on the larboard hand, where the cliff rose sheer from
the water, the rocky face was only bare here and there, the rest of the
cliff being thickly clothed with vegetation.

Arrived at the inner extremity of the inlet, the occupants of the gig
rounded a rocky point on their starboard hand, and found themselves in a
large basin, roughly circular in shape, measuring about two and three
quarter miles long, by about two miles wide, and completely sheltered
from every wind that could possibly blow, being absolutely landlocked.
This basin was formed by a deep indentation in the land on their
starboard hand, the shore of which, starting from the rocky point they
had just rounded, rapidly rose almost sheer from the water's-edge to
about the same height as the precipitous cliff on their left, which it
strongly resembled in general configuration, being a steep rocky face
densely covered with tropical vegetation, in and out of which, by the
way, darted numberless birds of brilliant plumage, whilst monkeys were
to be seen here and there gambolling among the branches or staring
curiously from some projecting pinnacle of rock at the new arrivals.

This basin, which had a depth of eight fathoms, with a rocky bottom in
its centre, terminated, at its inner extremity, in a short passage or
channel about half a mile wide between two bold rocky bluffs, beyond
which another large sheet of water was to be seen; and toward this the
gig was headed, the sounding-line being kept busy during the whole
progress.  As the gig advanced beyond the centre of the first basin, the
water was found to shoal gradually, until exactly midway between the two
bluffs, a depth of four and a half fathoms only was given by the
sounding-line.  The bluffs passed, the explorers found themselves in a
second and much larger basin, also roughly circular in shape, like the
first, but measuring about three and a half miles long by about three
miles wide.  This basin also was perfectly landlocked, the water being
smooth as a mill-pond, and its surface scarcely ruffled by the faintest
zephyr, though it was blowing moderately fresh outside.  The shore all
round sloped very gently up from the water's-edge, with a gradually
increasing steepness, however, further inland, until just before the
culminating ridge was reached the inclination appeared to be quite
precipitous, giving indeed to the entire basin some similitude to the
interior of a gigantic saucer.  The slopes here, at least near the
water's-edge, were not quite so densely wooded, the aspect of the
landscape being exceedingly park-like, the soil being clothed with a
velvety green-sward, thickly dotted with clumps of noble trees.  A thin
fringe of sandy beach ran all round the edge of this inner basin, except
at its eastern or farther extremity, where the stretch of sand widened
out to about the eighth of a mile for fully a mile in length.  The
deepest part of this basin was found to be at a point about a mile and a
quarter inside the two rocky bluffs, and from thence it shelved up very
gradually, the four-fathom line being struck at about a mile from the
eastern shore.  It was now discovered, however, that what had originally
been taken for one island was in reality a group of four, two other
channels being noted, one at the north-east, and the other at the south-
east extremity of the inner basin.  These channels were at once examined
by the explorers, with the result that they were found to be impassable,
except by boats.  Indeed the north-east channel and one arm of the
south-east channel--the latter forking into two channels at a mile and a
half from its inner extremity--was found to be practically closed, even
to boats, by the existence of formidable reefs outside, over which the
surf was so heavy that no boat could possibly live in it.  There was,
moreover, a sandy bar with only one fathom of water on it at the inner
extremity of both channels, but that passed, the water deepened again,
until in the case of the south arm of the south-east channel, another
bar was reached, over which, by watching their opportunity, the
explorers succeeded in taking their boat safely, when they once more
found themselves in the open sea.  This act of crossing the bar they
discovered, when it was too late, was rather a bad move on their part,
for it placed them some three miles to leeward of the ship, in a fresh
breeze and roughish water; but they fortunately had the boat's sails
with them, and Ned was rather glad than otherwise of an opportunity to
discover what the gig could do under canvas and in such circumstances.
The masts were accordingly stepped and the sails hoisted, and in about
an hour and a half they once more found themselves alongside of the
_Flying Cloud_, those on board her having failed to sight them until
they were close at hand, from the fact that the two craft were hidden
from each other by a projecting point of land.

It was past two bells in the afternoon watch when the gig rejoined the
ship; and Williams was, of course, all anxiety to learn the result of
their protracted exploration.  There was but one report that could be
made--namely, that the place could not be better adapted for their
purpose had it been specially constructed for them; and on hearing this,
Williams ordered them to at once get their dinners, announcing his
intention of taking the ship in forthwith.

Ned was as usual deputed to act as pilot, and accordingly, as soon as he
appeared on deck after getting his dinner in the saloon, all hands were
called, and sail was made upon the ship.  The wind outside was at about
west-south-west, which was a fair wind all the way to the spot Ned had
fixed upon for an anchorage, except for the passage up the inlet, which
trended in a north-westerly direction.  This, however, though under
ordinary circumstances it would have made the wind rather shy on that
course for a square-rigged vessel, gave Ned no concern, as he had
observed when passing in with the boat that, owing probably to the
height of the cliff on the larboard hand, the wind manifested a tendency
to draw up the inlet, and this, when the ship passed in, was found to be
sufficiently the case to keep all her canvas full.  The passage to the
anchorage occupied a considerable time, in consequence of the scantiness
of the wind as soon as the ship passed in under the lee of the cliffs,
and under other circumstances it might have been tedious; but in the
present case it was quite the reverse, the unaccustomed sight of the
lofty verdure-clad hills and cliffs, the variegated tints of the
foliage, the rainbow hues of the flowers and blossoms, the gaily-painted
birds flitting here and there, and the antics of the monkeys fully
occupied the attention of all hands, and interested them so completely
that the time passed unheeded, and sunset surprised them when still half
a mile from their anchorage.  Then night fell upon them with the
suddenness of the tropics; but the lead was now a faithful guide, and
when it announced that the ship had arrived within four and a half
fathoms of the bottom the sails were clewed up, the anchor was let go,
and the mutineers found themselves at length in a harbour so safe that
they might laugh at the winds in their utmost fury.

An anchor watch was kept that night as a precautionary measure, because
it was not then known whether the group was inhabited or not; but
nothing occurred to alarm the watchers, the only sounds heard being
those made by the countless insects on shore or the weird cries uttered
by the nocturnal birds.  Some of the sounds and cries were certainly
uncanny enough to send a creeping thrill through the frame of the
listener, but with that exception the night passed peacefully away; and
when the hands were turned up next morning to wash decks many was the
longing glance which was cast across the water to the bosky glades,
which looked so inviting in the bright sunshine.

Williams' alert eye at length took cognisance of these longing glances,
and when at length the task of washing down was completed, the buckets
and scrubbing-brushes put away, and the running-gear hauled taut and
coiled down, he summoned the men into the waist, and informed them that,
prior to beginning upon the somewhat lengthy task which he intended to
carry through before again leaving the anchorage, he proposed to have
the islands thoroughly explored and examined, the exploration to partake
somewhat of the nature of a holiday ramble ashore, when each man,
properly armed, would be at liberty to go whithersoever he would, and to
spend the day pretty much as he pleased, so long as the question of
whether the group was inhabited or not was satisfactorily settled.  And
he further intimated that that same day would be devoted to the
examination; an intimation which was received with enthusiastic cheers.

Upon hearing this announcement Ned--who for reasons of his own was most
anxious to keep on fairly good terms with all hands, and especially to
so shape his conduct as to remove any suspicions against him which might
still be lurking in the minds of the mutineers--at once stepped forward
and, stating to Williams his desire to take part in the exploration,
requisitioned the dinghy for his own and Miss Stanhope's use.  His
request was favourably received, and acceded to with a promptitude which
somewhat surprised him; whereupon he hastened into the saloon, and,
encountering the steward, gave orders for the preparation of a
substantial luncheon basket, after which he apprised Sibylla of his
proposed expedition.

Accordingly, as soon as breakfast was over, the two young people set off
in the dinghy, Sibylla being seated in the stern-sheets, with the yoke-
lines in her hands and the lunch basket at her feet, whilst Ned faced
her, handling the diminutive oars--or "paddles," as the seamen termed
them--without an effort.  That he had not been unmindful of possible
dangers was evidenced by the fact that that he had recommended Sibylla
to take with her both her revolvers and a goodly supply of ammunition,
whilst, as for himself, he was a perfect walking battery, a pair of
revolvers and a small hatchet being stuck into his ammunition belt,
whilst a ship's carbine reposed peacefully in the bows on the coiled-up
painter of the boat.

Early as Ned and Sibylla were in leaving the ship, the mutineers had got
the start of them, and, observing that the rest of the boats were making
for the east and south islands, Ned determined to give them a wide
berth, and accordingly paddled away for the north island, which was the
largest in the group.  He headed for a small strip of sandy beach which
he had noticed during the examination of the harbour on the previous
day, and after a leisurely pull of more than an hour across the placid
waters of the basin beached the boat.

Ned was by nature a keenly observant young gentleman, and the first fact
which attracted his attention on landing was that the water in the basin
was at exactly the same height on the beach as when they had passed it
some hours later on the previous day, from which he at once arrived at
the conclusion--afterwards proved to be correct--that there was
practically no tide in Refuge Harbour, as Williams at once named the
place.  But to obviate all possibility of the dinghy being swept away he
not only dragged her half her length up high and dry upon the beach, but
also planted one of the paddles firmly in the sand and then made fast
the painter to it.  This done, the lunch basket was stowed carefully
away in the shade under the stern-sheets, when, loading and shouldering
his carbine, Ned strolled along at an easy pace, so that Sibylla could
walk beside him without much apprehension, the beach nowhere showing any
footprints, as Ned believed it surely would have done had the place been
inhabited.

They struck directly inland, and after traversing the narrow bit of sand
reached the green-sward, the thick, luxuriant grass on which reached
almost up to their waists.  The ground here was open, the clumps of
trees which they had noticed from the ship--and which now seemed to be
as it were the outposts of a dense forest--not approaching in this
particular spot nearer than about a quarter of a mile of the water.  But
even here there was enough and more than enough to occupy their pleased
attention for the moment, the long grass being thickly interspersed with
flowering plants and shrubs, adorned with blossoms of most exquisite
form, hue, and fragrance.  Sibylla, woman-like, must needs at once
proceed to gather a bouquet for herself, in which pleasing occupation
the next half-hour was spent.  And here the pair were somewhat
startlingly reminded that there is no Eden without its serpent, for as
Sibylla stooped over a shrub loaded with magnificent white azalea-like
blooms, one or two of which she desired for the completion of her
bouquet, a sharp hissing sound was heard, and she started back with a
cry, just in time to avoid a vicious stroke from a small heart-shaped
head which suddenly upreared itself from among the leaves of the plant.
Ned, however, was close beside her, and whipping out his revolver he
fired, blowing the head of the snake clean off.

"Did the creature strike you?" demanded Ned anxiously.

"No," answered Sibylla; "I was so startled at its sudden appearance and
its malignant aspect that I darted back without giving it time to bite.
Do you think the creature was venomous?"

"We will soon see," answered Ned; and searching about in the long grass,
which he was careful to divide with the barrel of his carbine, he soon
found and held up to his companion's horrified view the severed head.

"Yes," he announced, "the brute was undoubtedly venomous.  Note the
heart-like shape of the head, the heads of all venomous snakes are
shaped more or less like that.  And see here," he added, compressing the
neck just behind the jaws in such a way as to force the mouth open, "do
you observe these two curved needle-like fangs, one on each side of the
upper jaw?  Those are the poison fangs.  And these swellings of the gums
at the base of the fangs are the poison bags.  They become compressed
when the fangs strike into the flesh of a victim, and a drop or two of
the venom passes down through the fang, which is hollow, into the wound,
and thus the mischief is done.  You have had a narrow escape, Miss
Stanhope."

After this little adventure the wanderers conducted their perambulations
much more circumspectly, and Ned lost no time in providing his companion
and himself with a stout pliant switch, which he had heard or read
somewhere is a most effective weapon against snakes.

Soon after this they reached the outskirts of the forest, and it was not
long before Ned discovered in a little greed patch of sward a small
grove of banana trees with huge bunches of fruit, more or less ripe,
depending from the crown of immense palmate leaves.  He saw that the
trees were of two or three different kinds, and, looking more closely,
he quickly discovered that of which he was in search.  Then, approaching
one of the trees, he reached up and dragged the bunch of fruit down
toward him, and, detaching several of the bananas, which were small and
of a fine yellow colour, he approached Sibylla, saying:

"Now, let me offer you a treat, in the shape of a few `ladies' fingers;'
so called, I believe, because the fruit is so small and delicate.  I
scarcely think you will have ever tasted this kind of banana before,
because I believe it will not bear transportation to England without
spoiling."

Sibylla tasted the fruit, which she pronounced delicious, and then they
resumed their ramble, enjoying their bananas as they went.  A little
further on they found some magnificent pine-apples, then some
granadillas, and shortly afterwards several other fruits were met with,
a few of which Ned was acquainted with, whilst others he had never seen
before, and these last they very wisely let alone.

When about half a mile distant from the beach they entered the actual
forest.  Here the trees grew very closely together, whilst the entire
space between their trunks was completely choked with a dense
undergrowth of parasitic creepers, the long, thin, pliant tendrils of
which stretched from trunk to trunk, or hung in festoons from the lower
branches, and were so hopelessly tangled up together that progress was
quite impossible, except along and through such openings as were the
result of accident.  Here the ground was quite bare of grass, a thick
carpet of dry twigs and fallen leaves taking its place, and the whole
aspect of the wood looked so exceedingly unpromising that Ned proposed
turning back.  Sibylla, however, was not so easily discouraged; she was
very desirous of reaching the ridge or highest part of the island, and
was not disposed to retrace her steps without at least making the
attempt.  They accordingly once more moved forward, Ned leading the way,
and directing his steps as best he could with the aid of a small compass
which he wore attached as a charm to his watch-guard.

They had advanced but a very few yards into this "bush," as Ned termed
it, when they found themselves wandering almost blindly in the midst of
a deep, sombre, greenish twilight gloom; the overhead growth being so
dense as to almost entirely exclude the daylight, save where, here and
there, an accidental break permitted a stray sunbeam to stream down and
illumine a space of a few square yards.  The effect of these partial
illuminations was very beautiful, revealing as they did the long tangled
festoons of creepers hanging black and snake-like against the light, and
causing the brilliant tints of the variegated foliage and the
resplendent hues of the flowers to flash out with dazzling effect
against the contrasting shadows.  Moreover, these little illuminated
patches were alive with huge superbly-coloured butterflies, birds of
gaudy plumage, and other winged creatures, whose forms were as novel as
the combinations of colours which marked their bodies.  They were the
scene of a perpetual whirl and flutter of wings, and before they
betrayed themselves to the sight their locality could be detected by the
sense of hearing from the never-ceasing hum and chirp of the insects and
the calls of the birds which frequented them.  They were the scenes of
an eager, busy, active life; whilst in the twilight depths of the forest
everything was deathlike, everything was still--the very air was
motionless, not a leaf stirred.  The silence was weird, oppressive, and
awe-inspiring; and when, at more or less lengthened intervals, a dry
twig snapped, a withered leaf crackled, when the soft wafting of the
wings of some nocturnal bird was heard among the branches overhead, or
the sudden, brief rustling which betrayed the presence of some wild
creature smote upon the ear, the effect upon the nerves was startling in
the extreme.  Through these alternate stretches of gloom and brief
illuminated spaces the pair wound their way, Ned leading and clearing
the path where necessary with his axe or his stout, serviceable clasp-
knife, until eventually, after more than an hour's toil, they emerged
upon a bald, ridge-like eminence which, on looking about them, they
found was the highest spot in the entire group.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.

From the point which they had now reached Sibylla and Ned commanded a
bird's-eye view of the entire harbour, with South Island--as it soon
came to be called--for a background, with the southern horizon showing
just clear of its highest portion.  Ned was now able to form a very much
more correct idea of the entire locality than had before been possible;
and as he stood critically examining the two basins, a suggestion as to
their possible origin and that of the islands themselves presented
itself to his mind.  Seen from where he then stood the group bore a very
strong resemblance to the crater of a long extinct volcano.  To begin
with, the ridge-like summits of the islands swept round in a form that
was roughly circular, and they would have been continuous but for the
breaches or channels which separated the islands from each other.  They
presented an appearance precisely similar to the rim of a volcanic
crater; and the inner and outer slopes of the islands were also strongly
suggestive of the inside and outside slopes of a crater.  The two basins
conveyed the idea of two closely contiguous vents for the subterranean
fires, and the channels might very well be breaches in the sides of the
crater through which the molten lava had burst its way.  And this theory
was confirmed by the colour of the water at the seaward extremities of
the several channels, which clearly indicated the existence of reefs
that might very well have been formed by the outflow.  Some of these
reefs, it is true, were so deeply submerged that the sea did not break
over them at all, at least in fine weather such as then prevailed; this
being notably apparent in the case of the channel by which the _Flying
Cloud_ had entered the harbour.  But the mouth of the north-east
channel, and that of the north arm of the south-east channel, were so
choked with rocks close to the surface that they showed nothing but a
wide expanse of white water.  In a word, the more Ned thought about it
the more convinced he became that he was standing on the summit of a
volcanic mountain, the top only of which rose above the surface of the
sea.  As to the period when the volcano had become extinct, Ned was not
scientist enough to form any opinion, but the whole aspect of the place
was such as to convince him that it must have been countless ages ago.

Having at length satisfied their eyes with the superb prospect which lay
spread out before them and beneath their feet, the happy wanderers--for
happy they somehow were, notwithstanding all the unpleasant
peculiarities of their position--set out to retrace their steps,
reaching their boat about an hour later; when, taking advantage of the
shade afforded by a few bushes which grew on the edge of an overhanging
bank, they seated themselves on an outcropping rock and did the fullest
justice to the luncheon which the friendly steward had put up for them.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon by the time that this meal was
disposed of, when Sibylla expressed a desire to have a nearer view of
the lofty cliffs bounding the outer basin than she had been able to
obtain on the previous day when the ship entered the harbour.  The boat
was accordingly got afloat and leisurely pulled by Ned close along the
northern shore.  In due time the dinghy passed between the northern and
southern bluffs and entered the outer basin, the water being still
smooth enough to allow of her keeping within oar's length of the shore;
and now they began to realise the majestic and indeed terrific character
of the nearly vertical rocky walls which shot sheer out of the water and
towered far away above their heads.  The qualifying word "nearly" is
used advisedly in speaking of the vertical rise of these cliffs,
because, whereas when they were passed in mid-channel they had the
appearance of being absolutely perpendicular, it was now seen that they
had a slight--a very slight--backward slope.

The faces of these cliffs were, as has before been stated, so densely
clothed with vegetation, mostly in the form of thick-growing shrubs--
though trees of quite respectable size were by no means wanting--that
but little of the actual rock was to be seen; and here and there among
these shrubs and trees monkeys could be seen swinging from bough to
bough, whilst thousands of birds darted in and out and flitted to and
fro among the branches.  One of these latter at length so strongly
attracted Sibylla's admiring attention that she pointed it out to Ned.

"By George!" the lad exclaimed rapturously, "that is a beauty, and no
mistake; I must have him.  I have long been intending to make a
collection of tropical birds for my father, and I might as well begin
now; it seems to me that I shall have an opportunity of making a very
respectable collection here whilst the mutineers are busy carrying out
their plans at the head of the basin."

"You speak as confidently as though you deemed it an absolute certainty
that you will eventually succeed in making your escape from those
wretches.  Do you still regard the project as a hopeful one?" said
Sibylla inquiringly.

"Yes, most certainly," answered Ned, as he carefully withdrew the bullet
from his carbine, and substituted for it a charge of small shot.  "The
fellows are certain to grow careless, sooner or later, and afford us a
chance to give them the slip, even if we do not fall in with a man-of-
war and get taken.  Keep up your spirits, Miss Stanhope; keep up your
spirits and your courage, I say, for I am always thinking and planning,
and I never mean to rest satisfied until I have taken you out of the
hands of those wretches and safe back to England again."

"You are very good to say so, Mr Damerell, nay more than good,"
answered Sibylla frankly, "and come what may, I shall never, _never_
forget your constant watchful care."

"Oh, don't say too much about that," answered Ned cheerfully.  "I look
upon you almost as a second sister, you know, and I am only doing for
you just exactly what I should wish to be done for my sister Eva if she
were placed in a similar position to yours.  And as long as you are
compelled to remain on board the _Cloud_, I hope you will trust me as
fully and as implicitly as if I were your brother; it will perhaps make
you feel less lonely, you know, if it serves no other good purpose.  And
now, where is my bird?  I am quite ready for him."

The creature was still hopping about among the branches of a tree almost
directly overhead, apparently feeding on the fruit or berries which it
found there; and taking careful aim, Ned fired.  The report of the
carbine went echoing back and forth between the cliffs in the most
astounding manner, raising a tremendous disturbance, not only by its
reverberations along the cliffs on both sides of the basin, but also
from the cries of the countless startled birds which suddenly appeared
in the air, and the excited chattering of the equally startled monkeys.
As the smoke from the piece blew away, Ned saw his quarry tumbling from
branch to branch, and bough to bough, until it finally brought up in a
small bush which overhung the water some fifty feet above its surface.

"Killed him, by all that's lucky!" exclaimed Ned joyously.  "Now, if you
do not mind being left in the boat a moment by yourself whilst I slip
aloft there--I will make the painter fast to this sapling so that you
may not go adrift--I will secure my prize."

"But will it not be dangerous for you to climb up there?" protested
Sibylla apprehensively.

"If I find it so I will not persevere in my attempt," answered Ned
laughingly, as he grasped a bough and swung himself up on to a
projecting ledge of rock.

For a few yards of the ascent Ned's figure was clearly visible; then, as
he ascended still higher, Sibylla caught sight of him only at intervals,
and soon afterwards he vanished altogether among the greenery, though
his upward progress could still be traced here and there by the swaying
of the bushes, but at length this also ceased, and then a dreadful
silence and feeling of lonesomeness seemed to enwrap the fair girl as in
the folds of a sable mantle.  Minute followed minute with painful
slowness as it seemed to Sibylla, and _every_ instant she expected to
see Ned's outstretched arm appear from the midst of the shrubs clinging
aloft there to grasp the body of the bird.  But nothing of the sort
occurred, and at length, after a long and tedious period of painful
apprehension, she ventured to call his name.

No answer.

Sibylla waited a minute or two, and then called again.

Still no answer.

She now became very seriously alarmed, and, quite losing command of
herself, called upon him in piteous accents to answer, or if anything
had befallen him to give her some sign of his whereabouts in order that
she might be guided to his assistance.  Still calling him, she was about
to attempt the perilous ascent of the cliff-face in quest of him when
she heard him shout, and, looking up, saw him leaning over the edge of a
rocky ledge about a hundred feet above her.

"Are you all right, Miss Stanhope?" he shouted.  "I thought I heard you
call."

"Yes," she replied, steadying her voice as well as she could on the
instant.  "I am all right, thank you, but I _have_ been calling; you
were so long away that I began to fear some accident had befallen you."

"No," he answered back, "I am all right, but I have made a most
wonderful and interesting discovery that--However, I will come down."

And suiting the action to the word, he at once began to descend the face
of the cliff, not vertically, as he had gone up, but in a diagonal
direction, and, as Sibylla thought, at break-neck speed.  Ned continued
his wild career until he reached the water's-edge, at a distance of
perhaps two hundred feet to the westward of the boat, when, from what
Sibylla could see of his movements, he appeared to break the bough of a
bush in such a manner as to leave the branch dangling from the parent
shrub, after which he began to make his way along the cliff-face toward
the boat.

A few minutes later he reached the dinghy--minus the bird, by the by,
which he had set out to secure--and stepping in at once proceeded to
cast off the painter.  Then, as he stepped aft and tossed the paddles
into the rowlocks, he first got a glimpse of Sibylla's still troubled
face.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Stanhope," he said.  "I am afraid I have
frightened you by my long stay aloft there.  The fact is I was so
interested in my discovery that for the moment I forgot the flight of
time.

"I have made a most curious and important discovery, and one that may or
may not be of the utmost value to us.  When I started aloft to get that
bird--by the bye, where is it?  Ah!  I see it! and I will have it, too,
before I go back to the ship; but I will tell you my story first.  I had
not made my way very far up the cliff when I came to what looked so very
much like a flight of roughly hewn steps running up the cliff-face that
I determined to follow the indications, and investigate.  I did so, and
soon came to the conclusion that, though the step-like projections were
just as thickly overgrown as the rest of the cliff-face--showing that
they had not been used for years, or possibly generations, they had
undoubtedly been wrought out by the hand of man.  Pushing the shrubs on
one side I had no difficulty whatever in making my way upwards, until I
at length came out upon a flat platform of rock, in the outer edge of
which were two holes or depressions, some twelve feet apart, which I
imagined might have been hollowed out to receive the heels of a pair of
sheers, an impression which was rendered all the stronger when, on
looking more closely, I discovered a groove terminating in a third hole
which I immediately guessed must have been formed to receive the heel of
the back-leg.  All this is, I suppose, Greek to you; but you will
perhaps comprehend me when I explain that sheers are used to assist in
hoisting heavy articles with.  The rocky platform is about fifteen feet
square, the cliff-face overhanging it above; and at its back part there
is a sort of split in the rock about eight feet wide and nearly the same
height.  I passed in through this crevice, and at once found myself in a
cave perhaps thirty feet wide and about fifty feet deep.  And now comes
the strangest part of the affair.  It is nearly half full of bales and
parcels, with several jars, apparently earthenware, their mouths tied
over with what looks like a coarse kind of cloth; but everything is so
thickly coated with dust and grime that it is quite impossible to guess
at the contents of these jars and bales without further investigation.
And in one corner there are stacked up a number of weapons--spears and
axes--so rusted and decayed that they may have been there for centuries.
There are also a number of what I took to be shields by the look of
them; but they, like everything else, are so coated with dust that I did
not touch them.  But I must certainly give the place a thorough
overhaul, as it may serve us as a refuge and place of concealment at a
pinch.  Would you like to go up and have a look at the cave and its
contents now?"

"I should like it very much, if you think I could climb the stairs,"
answered Sibylla.

"Oh, yes," answered Ned, "you can do that easily enough, I should think;
and I should like you to make the attempt, if only to find out whether
you could accomplish the ascent at some future time, if necessary.  I
will go before and clear the way for you, using the axe if we meet with
any very serious obstacles; but I think you will be able to manage
without much difficulty.  Ah, here, you see, is the landing at the
bottom of the flight"--and Ned indicated to his companion a flat ledge
about a yard square, close to the surface of the water.

The dinghy was carefully secured, and then, stepping on to the ledge,
Ned assisted his companion ashore.

There could be no doubt as to the fact that from this ledge or landing a
flight of step-like projections led diagonally up the face of the cliff;
and, thickly overgrown as they were, there could be as little doubt
that, if not entirely artificial, nature had been largely assisted by
the hand of man in their formation.  The flight averaged pretty evenly
about a yard in width, each step being about six inches high; so that
but for the dense growth of shrubs upon them, the ascent would have been
exceedingly easy.  Even as things were, Sibylla experienced far less
difficulty than she had anticipated; Ned going before and then pressing
the shrubs aside to facilitate her passage, using his axe here and there
to remove such growth as stood fairly in the middle of the way.  Nor was
the ascent nearly so dangerous as might have been expected, the dense
growth all along the outer edge of the stairway forming a sort of
bulwark which rendered a fall almost impossible.  So safe, indeed, and
comparatively easy was the ascent that it was accomplished in about
twenty minutes: when, after pointing out the holes in the upper
platform, and fully explaining the structure and uses of the sheers
which he believed to have once stood there, Ned led the way into the
cave.

For a few minutes after entering everything was so dark compared with
the brilliant daylight without that nothing could be seen.  At length,
however, their eyes became accustomed to the soft twilight gloom of the
place, when Ned at once began to direct Sibylla's attention to the
various articles that were stored there.  The first objects examined
were the weapons, all of which were stacked in one corner.  The
shields--for such they actually proved to be--were circular, about two
feet in diameter, and made of a metal which, when cleared of its thick
coating of grime and a small portion of its surface scraped with a
knife, turned out to be brass.  The outer and inner surfaces were both
perfectly plain, or, if ornamented at all, the ornamentation could not
be discovered without resort to a much more effectual cleaning process
than Ned felt disposed to bestow upon them.  On the inside two leather
straps were rivetted, one for the arm to pass through and the other for
the hand to grasp; but so old and decayed were these straps that they
crumbled into black dust at a touch.  This was also the case with the
wooden shafts of the spears, which powdered away like touchwood.  And,
as for the spear-heads and the blades of the axes, they were so rust-
eaten that little more than a rough jagged indication of their original
shape remained.

The earthen jars, of which there were twenty-four, next claimed Ned's
attention.  These vessels stood about two feet high, and were about ten
inches diameter, of peculiar though not ungraceful shape, and they were
singularly heavy; as Ned discovered when he seized one with the
intention of moving it forward into a lighter part of the cave.  The
mouth was covered with four thicknesses of a kind of wax-cloth, such as
Ned had never seen before; the cloth being bound round the neck of the
jar with several turns of fine cord, which, like the cloth, seemed to
have been treated with a waxy coating, doubtless to assist in its
preservation.  If such was the purpose of the treatment, it had
succeeded fairly well; but the outer or top layer of the cloth covering
the mouth of the jar had rotted and split here and there.  The second
layer, however, was in a very fair state of preservation, and the other
two layers were perfect, proving on examination to be a coarse kind of
linen which had either been steeped in or painted over with a
composition which felt waxy to the touch, and imparted a yellowish tinge
to the fabric.

Ned's knife quickly severed the cord, which, however, was so rotten that
it came to pieces during the process of unwinding, and he then uncovered
the mouth of the jar and peered down into it.  The vessel was full of a
coarse, dull, yellow glistening sand, a handful of which the young
fellow quickly removed and carried out into the daylight.  He was back
again in a moment, exclaiming to Sibylla in a tone of exultant
astonishment:

"It is _gold-dust_, Miss Stanhope! gold-dust, and our fortunes are
made!"

"I am very glad indeed to hear it," answered Sibylla.  "But are you
quite sure you are not mistaken?  How do you know it is gold-dust?"

"I know by the look and weight of it," answered Ned.  "I have seen too
much gold-dust in Australia to be deceived in such a matter.  Look at it
and feel it for yourself--note the weight of a handful of it, and you
will be satisfied that I am right.  I expect the contents of all these
jars are the same, but I will open one or two more just to satisfy
myself."

He did so, and found his conjecture to be correct--the additional three
which he opened were all full of gold-dust like the first.

"What shall we tackle next?" asked Ned.  "That big bale looks as though
it ought to contain something valuable; I think I will pursue my
investigations in that direction."

The bale, which had an outer covering of wax-cloth of a much coarser
texture than that which closed the mouth of the jars, proved to be too
heavy for Ned to move unaided; so his knife was again brought into
requisition, and the cloth--which was still tough enough to offer a
slight resistance to the blade--was ripped open from end to end of the
bale.  The orifice thus made disclosed to view a firmly packed mass of
several sorts of fabrics, neatly folded, and laid one upon the top of
the other.  The first three or four layers consisted of fine linen cloth
dyed a deep rich purple hue.  Then came several pieces of a heavy, rich
kind of brocade; then a quantity of thin filmy muslin, fine as if woven
of a cobweb, and exquisitely embroidered with a beautiful and intricate
design in very fine gold thread.  The brocades had been greatly admired
by Sibylla, but these embroidered muslins simply threw her into
ecstasies.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in almost childish delight,
"they are lovely; never in my life have I ever seen anything half so
exquisitely beautiful!"

"Then," said Ned, in the most matter of fact way, "I'll tell you what we
will do.  The next time we come here we will be provided with the means
of carrying off enough of the stuff to make you a dress or two.  We
cannot do so now, as the men would see it, and questions would be asked;
which would never do.  But next trip we will contrive to carry away a
bolt or two of it."

Sibylla was a true woman; and even in her present predicament her
feminine love of things beautiful was strong enough to win from her a
ready assent to Ned's proposition.  In the meantime the muslins were
carefully re-folded--a task of some little difficulty, owing to their
filmy texture--and replaced in the bale.

Quite a large pile of small brick-like parcels next came in for a share
of Ned's attention.  They, like the bales, were enveloped in wax-cloth,
and like the jars were singularly heavy.  Ned opened one, and on
removing the cloth wrapper disclosed to view a block of dull yellow
virgin gold.  The block was about the same shape as, but a little larger
than an ordinary English brick, and stamped or moulded on each side was
a sign or symbol of hieroglyphic character.

Ned did not consider it necessary to open any more of the brick-like
parcels, as, after his experience with the jars, he felt fairly
satisfied that, if opened, each parcel would be found to contain a gold
brick similar to the one already disclosed.  He was therefore about to
suggest a descent to the boat, under the impression that his inspection
of the cave and its contents had been completed, when it occurred to him
that he might as well strike a match or two and throw a little light
into the extreme corner of the cave, in which, now that his eyes were
growing somewhat accustomed to the gloom, he fancied he could detect a
pile or stack of some kind.  He accordingly drew from his pocket a box
of matches, and, placing some half a dozen of them together, ignited
them.  This afforded him light enough to see that there really _was_ a
stack of long dark curved objects piled in the angle.  To get at these
it was necessary for him to climb over the heap of gold bricks, which
formed a kind of barrier across the corner, and in so doing his eye fell
upon one brick quite at the rear of the stack which was very
considerably larger than the others.

Reaching the mysterious stack in the corner he selected one of the long
curved objects and, brushing the dust from it as well as he could,
proceeded to scrape through the remaining coat of dirt with his knife.
By this means he soon reached a hard bone-like substance, upon which he
presently scraped a white surface, when the expenditure of a few more
matches revealed the fact that he had been operating upon an elephant's
tusk, of which nearly a hundred he thought must be stacked in that dark
corner.

On his return to the lighter part of the cave where he had left Sibylla,
his attention was again attracted by the extra large brick-like parcel,
which he thought he might as well examine.  He accordingly raised it
from the floor to carry it further forward into the light, when, though
tolerably heavy, the comparative ease with which he lifted it at once
assured him that, whatever else it might be, it certainly was not gold.

The grimy cloth wrapping was soon removed, and a casket of discoloured
but still recognisable brass of elaborate and curious workmanship was
disclosed.  The lid was not secured in any way, otherwise than by the
hinges; and so perfect had been the protection afforded by the wax-cloth
wrapping that these worked without difficulty.  The lid was quickly
raised, and the casket--which measured about fifteen inches long by nine
inches wide, and perhaps ten inches deep--was found to contain a number
of neat wax-cloth parcels.  The first which came to hand--and which, by
the way, was by far the largest one--was at once opened, and there
before the eyes of the admiring pair, fresh as if just removed from the
shell, lay some two hundred or more magnificent pearls--magnificent not
only in respect of their unusual size, but also of their exquisite
lustre and perfect globular form.  Needless to say that in presence of
these superb and incomparable gems Sibylla's admiration of the
embroidered muslins dwindled away to insignificance, and her minute
examination of the pearls plunged her into a perfect trance of delight.
The other parcels were found to contain rubies, sapphires, emeralds,
diamonds, and other precious stones, all in their rough state just as
they had been unearthed from the mine, but all without exception of
extraordinary size.  At first the fortunate finders were not greatly
impressed at the sight of these stones, for neither of them quite knew
what they were--though they judged them to be valuable from the
circumstance that they had been deemed worthy of a place in the same
receptacle with the pearls--and it was only the gleam of the diamonds
which at last awakened in their minds a suspicion that the stones were
really precious.  When at length, however, this suspicion fairly dawned
upon them Ned positively gasped for breath.

"Why," he exclaimed, "we are _rich_! rich beyond the power of
computation.  There must be at least a hundred magnificent fortunes in
this veritable cave of Aladdin; and now all that we have to do is to
give those ruffians the slip, when I will find means to return here and
recover all this treasure.  Now," he went on, "I'll tell you what we
will do.  We will divide the contents of this box into two about equal
portions, one of which we will convey from time to time on board the
ship, whilst the other shall remain here; and in this way I think we may
make reasonably sure of securing one half of the gems whatever happens.
The gold we must leave, I think, as too cumbersome to be dealt with
under our present circumstances, but the dresses you certainly _shall_
have.  Now, slip those pearls into your pocket, and I will take as many
of the diamonds and what not as I can stow away, after which I think we
had better see about getting back to the ship."

"But," interposed Sibylla, "have we any right to touch these things?
Surely they must belong to some one?"

"I have not the slightest idea who was the former rightful owner of all
this property," replied Ned, laughing; "but, whoever he was, he has been
dust and ashes ages ago, and so too have the rovers who, I expect,
brought them to this out-of-the-way place and hid them in this cave.
Why, by the look alone of the things, the arms especially, they must
have been here at least hundreds of years!  There is no doubt a deeply
interesting story attaching to this hoard, but what it is we shall
probably never know.  Of one thing, however, you may rest assured, and
that is that we, as the finders, have a better right to everything in
this cave than anyone now living."

The reasonableness of this argument satisfied even Sibylla's sensitive
conscience, and she made no further demur to Ned's proposed
arrangements.

An hour and a half later they reached the ship, just as the sun was
setting, and found her still deserted, though the men could be seen
mustering on the beaches and preparing to return on board.  Advantage
was taken of this circumstance by Sibylla to stow away in her own boxes,
at Ned's request, all the jewels brought on board, thus leaving that
young gentleman free to meet Williams on his return to the ship and to
make such a report of his explorations as he might deem fit.  Half an
hour later all the men had returned on board, and though they were
thoroughly fagged out by their unwonted exercise they had evidently
enjoyed the day just as much as though they had been so many schoolboys.

On the following morning work was begun in earnest, part of the men
being engaged in unbending sails and sending down the upper spars,
whilst a contingent under Williams landed and proceeded to cut down
trees for the purpose of building stores, a dwelling-house, a kitchen,
and so on, on shore.  Williams' plans comprised no less than the entire
stripping of the ship down to a gantline; the thorough overhauling of
her hull, inside and out, including cleaning and scrubbing; and a number
of petty alterations in her rigging, which he thought would have the
effect of disguising the vessel.  And in addition to this he also
proposed to construct on shore permanent buildings for the storage of
his booty, as well as for the residence of a small contingent of men to
guard it.  This of course was not only a work of considerable time, but
it also involved the complete evacuation of the ship, a circumstance
which Ned foresaw would cause very serious inconvenience to Sibylla.
This, however, was at length happily surmounted by his obtaining the
very reluctant consent of Williams to employ some of the men in the
construction of a hut for her sole accommodation, he at the same time
locating himself in a small tent, which was pitched close at hand, so
that he might always be able to watch over her safety.

Meanwhile the _Southern Cross_ duly arrived at Melbourne after an
excellent passage; and Captain Spence was intensely gratified when he
found that nothing had been heard of the _Flying Cloud_.  A week later
the _Southern Cross_ was lying with an empty hold, waiting for her
homeward cargo to come alongside, and still the _Flying Cloud_ had not
put in an appearance.  Knowing what he did of the latter vessel's
sailing powers, Captain Spence could only conclude that after the
_Flying Cloud_ had parted company with him in the Atlantic, she must
have met with a streak of foul wind or light airs which his own ship had
happily avoided; but when a week later still, the _Flying Cloud_ had not
arrived, the exultation which the honest skipper had at first
experienced was converted into a feeling of incipient anxiety, which
increased as time went on without any appearance of his rival.  The
_Southern Cross's_ cargo was slow in coming alongside; but, nevertheless
when she was loaded, and her hatches put on, and she finally went to sea
on her homeward voyage, the _Flying Cloud_ was still numbered among the
non-arrivals.  And when, after a long passage home, the _Southern Cross_
arrived in London, and Captain Spence had time to inquire after his old
friend, Blyth, he was not only surprised, but deeply grieved to hear
that no intelligence of his arrival in Melbourne had up to that date
been received.

But there were others even more interested than Captain Spence in the
fate of the _Flying Cloud_, and these were by this time anxiously
watching the columns of the "Shipping Gazette" for tidings of the ship.
They came at last, in the shape of the following paragraph:--

MISSING VESSEL.

"The following vessel, previously referred to as overdue, was on
Wednesday posted at Lloyd's as missing:--

"The ship _Flying Cloud_ (Blyth, master), which left London for
Melbourne on ---, and which afterwards picked up the derelict barque
_Umhloti_, of Aberdeen, and sent her into port."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

MR. GAUNT GOES ON AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION.

It is now time to return to the little party of passengers, who, it will
be remembered, were left in a situation which was certainly the reverse
of pleasant.

Mr Gaunt, whose profession peculiarly adapted him to cope with such
difficulties as those which now environed the party, at once naturally
took the lead and assumed the direction of affairs--a position which Dr
Henderson most willingly accorded him, counting himself indeed fortunate
in being thus associated with a man of such infinite resource as the
engineer.  In their present state, the first thing to be done was to
provide a shelter for the helpless women and children of the party; and
no sooner was the boat's cargo discharged upon the beach and conveyed in
safety above high-water-mark than was this task commenced.  A suitable
position for the tent, which Gaunt proposed to put up, was soon found
among the trees, which grew thickly in clumps on the gentle slopes just
beyond the sandy beach.  Two cocoanut-trees, growing at a convenient
distance apart, were selected as uprights; and a young sapling was then
cut down and lashed horizontally from trunk to trunk, at a height of
about nine feet from the ground, to serve as a ridge-pole.  The sail was
next hauled over this sapling and secured to the ground on each side, in
such a form as to make an A shaped tent about twelve feet long by eight
feet wide, the spare canvas being so split that it fell down at the rear
and front end of the tent in such a way as to enable the little shelter
to be completely closed when necessary.  And, this done, the bedding, as
well as such articles as it was important to protect from the weather,
were at once placed under shelter, and the interior of the tent made as
comfortable as circumstances would permit; thus completing the first
portion of their task.  The next thing was to construct a shelter for
the powder--and in fact their little all, in the shape of worldly
possessions, which they thought it undesirable to put into the tent.
Two more cocoanut-trees were selected; another stout sapling was cut and
secured between them, as in the case of the tent, though not quite so
high from the ground, and then a quantity of other and somewhat lighter
saplings were procured to form a roof, which by sunset next day they had
succeeded in covering with a good serviceable thatch, quite impenetrable
to the weather.  But before this was accomplished they were unexpectedly
reinforced by the sudden appearance of Nicholls, whose presence upon the
island up to that moment had been quite unsuspected by them.  This
individual had been so anxious to avoid all possibility of recapture
that he spent the night in the woods, presenting himself to the little
party as they sat at breakfast next morning.  His sudden appearance
created quite a sensation for the moment; but he was almost instantly
recognised.

"Why, Nicholls!" exclaimed Gaunt, "what is the meaning of this?  What
are you doing here?  I thought you and the rest of the mutineers were
far enough away by this time."

"Well, sir," said Nicholls, twisting his cap nervously in his hands as
he spoke, "I hopes the rest of the mutineers are, as you say, far enough
away by this time, but I am _here_, and here I intends to remain--with
your good leave, sir.  The fact is, Mr Gaunt, I've cut and run!  That
fellow Williams--as, perhaps, you may know, sir--is a rare good 'un to
talk, and he managed to talk me, as well as the rest of the hands, quite
into the idee that pirating was just the best thing a poor down-trodden
seaman could turn his hand to.  Lord bless you, Mr Gaunt, if you had
heard that man I'm blessed if I don't think he would have persuaded
_you_ into the same idee!  But after I had agreed to jine them I began
to think matters over a bit, and the more I thought about it the less I
liked it; and at last I made up my mind that I'd slip my moorings aboard
the _Cloud_ the first chance as ever I got.  And when I got to hear that
Williams was going to turn you two gentlemen and your respected families
ashore here, I says to myself, `_Now's_ your time, Tom!'  And so I
managed to get told off for service in one of the boats, and, watching
my chance, I sort of strolled up among the trees and then took to my
heels, quite determined not to show up again until the _Cloud's_
to'ga'nts'ls had sunk below the horizon.  And now, here I am, sir, ready
and willing to ship with you.  I'm nothing but a poor ignorant man--a
blacksmith, rightly, by trade--but mayhap I may be able to make myself
useful enough to earn my bread and cheese."

"Well, Nicholls," said Mr Gaunt, "I am heartily glad to see you, my
man.  And, as to your earning your bread and cheese, a stout, handy
fellow like you, and a blacksmith to boot, will be a considerable
acquisition to us in our present circumstances.  I have no doubt that
Williams managed to make his plans very attractive to you poor fellows
in the forecastle; but wait and see how they will all end.  We know not
what is before us.  We shall, doubtless, have to endure much hardship
and be exposed to countless perils before we once more reach the shores
of old England--if ever we are fortunate enough to do so.  But, whatever
hardship or peril may fall to our lot, I feel confident that in the end
you will be better off with us than you would have been with Williams
and his piratical crew.  But sit down man; sit down and take some
breakfast.  You must be nearly famished by this time, if, as I suppose,
you have eaten nothing since you left the ship yesterday."

Nicholls, nothing loath, at once seated himself, and was served with
breakfast, which he devoured with an eagerness that at least spoke well
for the tonic properties of the air he had lately been breathing.

"I should like," said Mr Gaunt, "before we go any further, to say a
word or two, whilst we are all present here, upon our future plans.  I
suppose you have all been thinking more or less upon this subject, and,
as for myself, I may safely say that since we landed upon the beach
yesterday my thoughts have dwelt upon nothing else.  I do not know how
it may be with you, Henderson; but, delightful as is the climate of this
island, and fertile as its soil appears to be, I have no fancy for
adopting it as my permanent home.  I am anxious to return to
civilisation at as early a date as possible.  What are your ideas upon
the subject?"

"Precisely similar to your own," answered the doctor.  "My tastes and
inclinations are, by no means, pastoral; and if they were I do not think
I should particularly care about indulging them in this lonesome spot.
With all its failings, civilisation has certain advantages which I must
say have a peculiar value in my eyes, not the least of which is the
ability to live a quiet and peaceable life, free from all possible
attacks by savages or the semi-civilised marauders which I have
understood infest these Eastern Seas.  So, whatever may be your plans
for returning to civilisation, you may depend upon me, Gaunt, in aiding
you in every way I possibly can."

"Very well," said Gaunt.  "Then I will now tell you in as few words as
possible what my ideas are upon the subject, and I shall be glad of any
suggestions which either of you may afterwards have to offer.  When we
were in the act of leaving the ship yesterday, that noble fellow Ned
slipped into my hand a strip of paper, in which he had noted not only
the position of this island but also the important fact that he had
detected the presence of what he believed to be a wreck on the reef on
the western side of the island.  About this wreck I shall have more to
say presently.  The position of the island, as given by Ned, places us
at no very great distance from land; but that land is inhabited by
people who would not scruple for an instant to cut our throats if they
thought it would suit their purpose to do so; it is useless, therefore,
for us to think of making for a nearer port than either Hong-Kong,
Singapore, or one of the ports of Western Australia.  At first sight it
would seem a simple matter enough to build a boat and make our way in
her to one or another of the places I have named; for we have wood in
abundance here, and apparently of many kinds, and Ned has, I see,
provided us with a stock of nails which, carefully used, might suffice
us for the purpose.  But our island is, unfortunately for us, situated
in a sea which is swept at times by the most destructive hurricanes; and
it would be madness for us to think of leaving this place in anything
but a craft capable of living through the very worst of weather.  I have
not the slightest doubt of my ability to design such a vessel; but, let
her be as small as we dare to make her, her construction will still be a
work of exceeding difficulty for our small party, and it will also be a
work of time.  During that time we must all be housed, and clothed, and
fed.  And I therefore propose that our first task shall be a thorough
examination of the entire island, for the purpose of ascertaining the
most suitable spot as a base for our operations; and, that discovered, I
think we should next go to work to construct for ourselves such a
dwelling as shall bid defiance to an assault by anything but civilised
troops; stock it abundantly with provisions, so that, if besieged, we
may not have famine to contend with; and, that done, I think we shall
then be free to begin our operations upon the boat.  With regard to this
boat--for, in dimensions, she will not be much more--I think that, in
addition to being of a capacity sufficient to conveniently carry us all,
she should be fully decked and modelled upon such lines as will not only
make her a good sailer, but also a first-rate sea boat."

The doctor in his present situation found himself so utterly strange,
that, if left to himself, he would scarcely have known what to set about
first, and he was therefore only too glad to find that Gaunt was not
only so willing, but also so thoroughly able to grapple with the
difficulty.  He said as much; and when Nicholls was asked his opinion it
turned out that, like a great many more of his class, he was quite
unable to advance one, but was perfectly willing to follow the lead of
his superiors, let them go where they would.

The next matter for consideration was that of the exploration of the
island, which Gaunt proposed to undertake alone.  His idea was to
advance cautiously inland for a mile or so, and then, if he saw no sign
of their territory being inhabited, to make a push for the mountain at
about the centre of the island, and from thence onward to its western
side.  It was, of course, rather hard upon Mrs Gaunt that he should be
left, as it were, alone in this way while the disagreeable novelty of
her position was still fresh upon her; but there was no help for it, so
the brave little woman plucked up her courage, and when her husband was
ready to start bade him a cheery farewell.

Gaunt thought it only prudent to start upon this expedition thoroughly
well armed, and in addition to his repeating rifle, and the revolvers
and hunting-knife which he wore in his belt, he carried an axe, which he
thought might be useful in a variety of ways.  He hoped to return to
camp that evening, but foreseeing that he might meet with delays on the
way he cautioned them not to feel in the least anxious on his account
should he be absent that night and the whole of the next day.

On taking leave of his companions he at once struck inland towards the
mountain, which, looming vast and grey, formed the most prominent object
and landmark in the entire island.  The ground sloped gently upward, and
was thickly covered with long, tangled, and luxuriant grass; and at a
short distance from the beach it began to be thickly dotted with clumps
of trees, among which the cocoanut, the date-palm, and two or three
varieties of the banana were prominent.  On reaching the wooded portion
of the island, the engineer found, to his great gratification, that
although the soil appeared to be most densely overgrown with trees, such
was not in reality the case, as the clump-like arrangement which he at
first encountered still prevailed, although as he advanced inland the
clumps grew much more closely together than they did on the outskirts of
the wood.  He had very little difficulty in making his way among the
boles of the trees, as, contrary to what he had anticipated, there was
not much parasitic undergrowth, and where it became inconveniently dense
his axe soon enabled him to clear a way for himself.

Advancing steadily and with tolerable rapidity over the gently rising
ground, he at length, when not more than about two miles from camp,
suddenly found himself upon the verge of a ravine with steeply-sloping
sides, through the bottom of which wound what he at first took to be a
river, but which, on close examination, he found was really an arm of
the sea.  Descending the banks of the ravine he followed this stream--
which at the point where he encountered it was about a quarter of a mile
in width--and after pursuing a somewhat devious route for about another
mile and a half, came to a spot where this arm of the sea widened out to
a lake-like expanse of water, nearly circular in shape, and rather more
than a mile in diameter.  Almost in the very centre of this lake stood a
small island of about eight or ten acres in extent and thickly wooded,
which the engineer at once fixed upon as a most suitable spot on which
to establish an encampment.  He was very anxious to reach this island
and submit it to a closer examination, but he had no means of crossing
the intervening water except by swimming, and this, in consequence of
the distance to be traversed, would occupy more time than he felt
justified just then in devoting to it.  But he promised himself that,
circumstances permitting, he would do so on his return journey.

So far he had met with no trace or sign of the existence of savages, or
indeed of inhabitants of any description, upon his territory; and he
therefore relaxed somewhat of the vigilant and anxious demeanour which
he had hitherto observed, and pushed forward, with as much rapidity as
circumstances would allow, upon his journey.  Traversing the borders of
the lake, which lay embosomed in the midst of an amphitheatre of
steeply-sloping hills, he reached, after a walk of about a mile, a spot
where a genuine stream flowed into it.  At the point of junction with
the lake this stream was about a hundred yards in width, having a
current which flowed seaward at the rate of half a knot per hour.  Half
a mile further on, following the course of the stream, Gaunt found that
the channel narrowed very considerably, and, whilst still to all
appearance moderately deep, the current became much more rapid.  It was
at about this spot that he discovered what he thought would serve as a
capital site for a mill, if, indeed, the little party should find it in
their power to undertake so important a work; and, making a mental note
of the locality, he passed on.

He now determined to follow the stream to its source, as his active mind
already began to see that it might prove a very useful ally to them in
many ways.  The ravine-like character of the banks on either side of the
stream still prevailed, and this, in conjunction with its winding
course, continually opened up such vistas of sylvan beauty, that from
time to time the wanderer involuntarily paused in admiration, and once
or twice even caught himself asking the question whether, after all, a
man might not do worse than spend the remainder of his life in the midst
of such grandeur and beauty.

He now frequently encountered streams and brooks of more or less
importance flowing down into the main stream on either side of the
ravine, but they were scarcely sufficient in volume to account for the
large quantity of water which now went dashing and foaming and sparkling
over a bed of huge boulders.  At length he came to the end of the
ravine, and there he beheld a sight which amply rewarded him for all the
labour which he had undergone in following the stream.  The ravine
terminated in a vertical wall of rock fully a thousand feet in height,
from an immense fissure in which, near the top, there spouted a column
of water which he estimated to be at least twelve feet in diameter.  For
fully a third of the distance this liquid column poured down unbroken,
to be dashed into spray and mist--in which a rainbow softly beamed--upon
an immense spike of rock which divided the flow into two nearly equal
parts, and formed two superb cascades one on each side of the projecting
rock.

At this point it was easy for an active man to cross the stream without
wetting his feet, by jumping from boulder to boulder; and this the
engineer did, for he saw that in order to reach the mountain he would
have to get on the opposite side of the stream and follow its downward
course for nearly a mile.  When at length he climbed up the steep and
lofty side of the ravine and reached its brow, the nearest spur of the
mountain was only about a mile and a half distant, and for this he at
once made.  His route now lay over a flat table-land, out of which the
mountain seemed to spring at once, and almost sheer.  On reaching the
base of the hill, however, its sides proved to be not quite so steep as
they had appeared to be, but they were nevertheless steep enough to tax
Gaunt's muscles to their utmost extent before he finally reached the
bald summit.

He had now spread around and beneath him a prospect of such surpassing
beauty as he thought he had never gazed upon before.  The sea bounded
his horizon on every side, whilst the entire island lay spread out like
a map beneath him, with all its bold undulations, its streams, the lake,
and the arm of the sea distinctly visible; and with the aid of his
telescope he was even able to discern the gleaming white canvas of the
tent which marked the position of the little party he had left behind.
Nay more, when he had finally adjusted the focus of his telescope, he
was even able to detect, upon the white sand of the beach, two tiny
moving objects which he knew to be his own boy Percy and little Lucille
Henderson.  For some time he was unable to withdraw his eyes from those
two diminutive objects; but when he did so, and turned his face to the
westward, he saw that the remarkable cliff which Ned had noticed as the
ship passed the island, and which seemed to divide it into two separate
and distinct portions, was distant not more than three-quarters of a
mile from the base of the hill on which he stood.  The top edge of this
cliff bounded his view to the westward so far as the island was
concerned; but the bay with its encircling reef was visible, and even
with the naked eye he readily detected, on the interior edge of the
reef, a small speck-like object which the telescope showed him to be the
wreck mentioned by Ned in his note.  The day was now wearing on apace,
and his long walk had sharpened his appetite; Gaunt therefore thought
that he could not do better than sit down where he was and take his
luncheon or dinner whilst he noted in fuller detail the topography of
the island, of which he there and then made a rough sketch-plan.

His meal over, the solitary explorer descended the mountain and made his
way to the edge of the cliff.  Arrived there, it soon become apparent
that the most difficult portion of his journey still lay before him, for
at the point where he then stood, he saw at once that to descend the
cliffs face to the slope below would be an impossibility without the aid
of ropes or some substitute for them.  He turned south and followed the
edge of the cliff, hoping to find a spot at which he might descend, but
without success, as he at length reached a point where the face of the
cliff turned sharply off to the eastward, eventually running into and
forming a portion of the cliff proper, which on that side of the island
ran sheer down to the water.

Retracing his steps, Gaunt soon found himself back at the spot where he
had in the first instance reached the edge of the cliff, and passing on
he found, at a distance of about a quarter of a mile beyond, a narrow
chasm or gap, which on careful inspection he saw would enable him to
descend to the sloping green-sward at the foot of the cliff.  Down this
gap he cautiously scrambled, narrowly escaping an awkward fall once or
twice on his way, and by that means soon reached the foot of the cliff,
which appeared to maintain a tolerably uniform height of about three
hundred and fifty feet.

From the point where he now stood the ground sloped pretty evenly down
to the water, the inclination of the slope being about one foot in every
three; and the distance to the water's-edge a mile, as near as might be.
The base of this long slope terminated in a narrow strip of sandy
beach, which was strewed here and there with timber and what-not from
the wreck in the offing.  This wreck Mr Gaunt was exceedingly anxious
to visit, as he felt it might--and probably would--prove of inestimable
value to himself and his companions.  She was not more than half a mile
distant from the beach, and was lying close to the inside fringe of the
white water which broke over the outlying reef.  Her bows pointed
shoreward, but at an angle which enabled the engineer to catch a glimpse
of her entire broadside; and she was lying well over on her side, with
her inclined deck towards the island, thus enabling Gaunt to get, with
the aid of his telescope, a fairly good view of her, and to form a
tolerably accurate estimate of the amount of damage which she had
received.  She was a large vessel, measuring, as near as he could judge,
some sixteen hundred tons, and she appeared to be built of wood.  She
had been either barque or ship-rigged; but all three of her masts were
over the side, and could be seen floating there still attached to the
hull by the rigging.  Her bulwarks were entirely swept away, as also
were her deck-houses--the broken stanchions of which Gaunt thought he
could detect still projecting above the surface of the deck.  The stem
and stern-posts of a couple of boats still dangled from her davits;
which seemed to point to the conclusion that when disaster overtook her
the crew had been allowed little or no time in which to provide for
their safety.

Gaunt was an excellent swimmer, and, having no boat, he thought his
quickest mode of reaching the vessel would be by taking to the water.
He was on the point of stripping for this purpose when, his eye still
fixed upon the ship, he caught a glimpse of two or three small dark
objects projecting above the surface of the water and moving slowly
about.  He had a very shrewd suspicion as to the nature of these
objects, and his telescope soon demonstrated to him the fact that he was
right in believing them to be the dorsal fins of so many sharks.

He was scarcely prepared for this discovery, as he was under the
impression that the bay on the shore of which he stood was completely
hemmed in by the reef; and he was fully aware that if such had been the
case the smooth water inside would be quite free from sharks, as these
pests never voluntarily pass through broken water.  Their presence,
therefore, pointed to the probability that although he had been unable
to detect such a circumstance, there must somewhere be a channel through
the reef.

The sight of the sharks effectually put an end to his project of
swimming off to the wreck, and he at once began to look about him for
the means of forming such a raft as would enable him to make the trip in
safety.  There was plenty of timber lying strewed about the beach, but
he had no nails or tools of any description, except his axe, with which
to construct the raft.  Under these circumstances the matter required a
little thinking out; and whilst deliberating upon his best mode of
proceeding, he sauntered along the beach on the look-out for suitable
materials.  He had been walking slowly along for a distance of about a
mile when his quick eye detected certain objects lying on the sand which
he instinctively divined to be human corpses, and, making his way to
them, he found he was not mistaken.  There they lay--seven of them--just
as they had been washed ashore, dead, after their last ineffectual
struggle with the merciless sea.  Three of them were fully clothed; the
remaining four were clad only in their shirts, which seemed to indicate
that they had leaped from their hammocks, upon some sudden alarm, and
rushed upon the deck, to be almost immediately swept overboard.  The
bodies were in a most revolting condition, from the combined effects of
the sun and the attacks of the sea-birds and land-crabs, the latter of
which swarmed upon the beach in thousands.  It was difficult to judge
accurately how long a period had elapsed since death had overtaken these
unfortunates; but from their appearance Gaunt believed that it could not
have been many weeks.  It was a sad sight to look upon, especially for a
man in his situation; and he hastened to remove it by roughly sharpening
a fragment of plank with his axe and scooping shallow graves in the
sand, into which he rolled the bodies and hastily covered them up.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A VISIT TO THE WRECK.

This shocking discovery diverted his thoughts for a short time from his
original project; but, having done all he could for the poor wretches,
he was glad to turn anew to the question of the raft.  To a man
accustomed as he was to the quick devising of expedients it was not
difficult to scheme out the plan of such a structure as would serve his
purpose.  Looking about him and collecting a quantity of such small
pieces of wreckage as had nails in them, he formed them into a heap, to
which with the aid of some dry grass and withered leaves and a lens from
his telescope, he set fire and left it to consume.  Then picking out
three 6-inch planks of about equal length he sharpened their ends with
his axe and laid them on the beach, at a distance of about three feet
apart, with their sharpened ends pointing seaward.  He next procured
three pieces of plank long enough to just cross the first three planks
at right angles; and as soon as his bonfire had burned itself out he
cleared the nails from among the ashes, and with them fastened his
structure together.  Two short pieces of plank nailed vertically in
midships, with another piece secured on top of that, formed a rough-and-
ready seat; and two other pieces secured crosswise on each side to the
outer edges of his raft, and at the distance of about a foot abaft the
seat, gave him a fairly serviceable substitute for rowlocks.  He had
already been fortunate enough to find a couple of small oars, and he now
thought he might venture to essay a trip to the wreck.

Small as was his raft, it was still so heavy as to give him some trouble
in the launching of it; but he at length got it fairly afloat, and
seating himself in the centre, adjusted his oars and began to try its
paces.  He was greatly surprised to find that he could propel it through
the water at a very fair speed, and without much effort; and, this fact
ascertained, he at once headed straight for the wreck, which he safely
reached in about half an hour.

There were plenty of ropes'-ends dangling from the ship's side, to one
of which he made fast his raft, and laying the oars carefully down in
such a manner as that they would not be likely to slip overboard, he
scrambled on board the wreck and reached the steeply inclined deck.

The wreck appeared to be fully as large as he had supposed; and he was
agreeably surprised to find, on investigation, that she had not received
nearly so much damage as he had anticipated, indeed her injuries seemed
to be confined almost entirely to the loss of her masts, bulwarks, and
deck-houses.  The cabin had been on deck; but this was swept away.  The
forecastle, however, was below, and into this he descended.  It was
arranged in the usual manner on board merchant ships--that is to say, it
had standing bunks round each side of it, in which the bedding of the
unfortunate seamen still remained, precisely as when the ship struck.

The seamen's chests were also there, showing that they had had no time
to make any elaborate preparations for leaving the ship; and the
impression produced upon Gaunt's mind by what he saw was, that when the
ship struck the watch below must have rushed immediately up on deck, and
very soon, if not immediately afterwards, have been swept overboard.

As he was there, not to satisfy his curiosity, but to ascertain of what
value the ship might prove to himself and his friends, he did not
hesitate to open and examine the chests of the poor fellows; but he
found nothing therein except such coarse clothing as is usually worn by
merchant seamen, and a few little odds and ends of no particular value,
except perhaps a sailor's palm or two, with sail-needles; and in one or
two instances a little housewife with sewing needles, thread, etcetera,
neatly arranged.

One of the chests, however, proved to be a carpenter's tool-chest; and
this, although Gaunt had a small tool-chest of his own among his
effects, would be of such priceless value to the little band, that he
determined to secure it then and there; and he accordingly dragged it on
deck at once, in readiness to transfer to his raft.  The floor of the
forecastle was quite dry, and this circumstance led Gaunt to hope that
the hull had received no damage; but on raising the hatch leading to the
fore-peak he saw that the place was nearly full of water.  His
exploration of the forecastle ended here; and he was about to proceed on
deck when he caught sight of a fishing-line suspended on a nail inside
one of the bunks.  This fishing-line he at once secured and took on deck
with him laying it down on top of the carpenter's tool-chest so that it
might not be forgotten when he left the wreck.

He now proceeded to the after end of the wreck.  Here the cabins had
been entirely swept away; and he had no means of ascertaining any
particulars as to the ownership of the vessel, the nature of her cargo,
or her destination--the ship's papers and the captain's private
documents having doubtless gone overboard with the wreck of the cabin.
But by looking over the ship's counter he saw that she was named the
_Mermaid_, and that she hailed from the port of Bristol.

That portion of the deck which formed the floor of the cabin had been
covered with oilcloth; and this oilcloth still remained in place,
securely nailed down to the planking.  Looking about him Gaunt had no
difficulty in discovering the locality of the hatch leading down to the
lazarette, which, like the rest of the cabin flooring, was covered with
oilcloth, on folding back which he noticed, with satisfaction, that the
sea had been prevented from penetrating into the interior.  Raising the
hatch he descended, and found, as he expected, that the place was well
packed with the usual stores supplied to such a ship when bound upon a
long voyage.  He opened a few of the cases at haphazard and extracted
from one a bottle of port wine, and from another a tin of preserved
soup; he also found several casks of ship's bread, from one of which he
filled his pockets.  With this booty he returned to the deck and
deposited it on the carpenter's tool-chest.  He next turned his
attention to the hatches.  These were all securely battened down; and he
noticed with great satisfaction that the tarpaulins which covered them
were quite uninjured, and to all appearance perfectly watertight.  He
was about to break open the main hatchway, but on further consideration
he decided not to do so until he was prepared to hoist out the cargo and
transfer it to the shore, as he well knew that when the tarpaulin was
removed he would be unable to properly secure it in its place again
without assistance.

His preliminary examination of the wreck was now completed, and the
position of the sun warned him that it was high time for him to see
about returning to the shore.  He met with a great deal of trouble in
lowering the heavy tool-chest down the ship's side and safely depositing
it on his flimsy raft; but so much value did he attach to its possession
that he determined not to leave the wreck without it.  And he eventually
succeeded, though not until the sun was within half an hour of setting.
This task successfully accomplished, and the fishing-line, bread, wine,
and tin of soup placed in security on the top of the chest, he cast off
and cautiously pulled away to the shore, which he safely reached just as
the sun's upper rim was disappearing below the horizon.

He was by this time desperately hungry, and the first thing to which he
devoted himself was the preparation of supper.  His first idea was that
he would be obliged to consume the soup cold; but the prospect of such a
comfortless meal was so little to his taste that he began to look about
for some means of overcoming this disadvantage.  What he wanted was a
vessel or a receptacle of some description in which he could heat the
soup and make it somewhat more palatable; and here he remembered having
passed during his morning's ramble on the beach a very large shell of
the species _Tridacna gigas_.  He bethought himself of its whereabouts
whilst busily engaged in moving the tool-chest, etcetera, well up above
high-water mark; and having brought the locality to mind he took the tin
of soup in his hand and hastened along the beach.  The shell was not
very far distant, and securing it he dragged it to a convenient position
and imbedded it in the soft dry sand, placing the tin of soup in it.  He
next collected a quantity of dry twigs and brushwood, of which there was
no lack beneath the trees at a short distance from the beach.  He also
collected a quantity of dry leaves, and with these and the brushwood he
built the constituents of a fire, which he next lit with the aid of a
match, a few of which he had taken the precaution to provide himself
with that morning before setting out His next task was to find a few
good large pebbles, of which there was a plentiful supply lying about
just where the sand and the soil proper met.  Selecting about two dozen
of the largest he conveyed them to his fire and carefully arranged them
in its midst.  He then proceeded to fill the shell--which was to serve
as his cooking pot--with salt water, no fresh-water being at hand; after
which he sat down and waited patiently until the stones which he had
laid in the fire should be sufficiently heated for his purpose.  About
twenty minutes sufficed for this, when the hot stones were dropped one
after the other into the shell, by which means the water was very soon
brought to boiling point, and maintained at that temperature long enough
to thoroughly warm the soup, the tin of which he had, after some
difficulty, succeeded in opening with his axe.  He then hurried back to
where he had left the wine and the bread, both of which he conveyed to
his extemporised kitchen, and there, with the aid of a small shell
carefully washed, made shift to consume the soup, washing it and the
bread down with a moderate draught of wine.  This done, he kneeled down
on the sand and, commending himself and his dear ones to the care of his
Maker, stretched himself out by the side of the fire, and was soon
wrapped in a dreamless sleep which lasted until morning.

He was awakened by a sound so homely and familiar to his ears, that when
he first started up he almost believed that the experiences of the past
few months could have been nothing more than an unusually vivid and
circumstantial dream, and that he should find himself a tenant of some
pleasant English farm-house.  The sound--which was the crowing of a
cock--was repeated, and answered from the woods at a distance of perhaps
half a mile, and again answered by another shrill crowing nearer at
hand, but in a different direction.  He was astounded.  What could be
the meaning of the presence of domestic fowls on this lonely island?  He
started to his feet and set off, determined to investigate.  The crowing
was repeated often enough to serve him as an effective guide in his
search, and proceeding cautiously he at length found himself quite close
to the spot from whence the sounds apparently proceeded.  Still
advancing cautiously he presently heard not only the crowing of a cock
but the loud triumphant clucking with which a hen proclaims to an
admiring world the fact that she has laid an egg.  A little further away
he heard, in addition to these sounds, the softer cluck with which a
parent hen calls to her chickens; and presently, peering out from behind
the bole of an enormous teak-tree, he saw not only chanticleer but also
his harem, consisting of half a dozen hens, two of which had broods of
fluffy-looking chickens running at their heels.  This was a most
delightful surprise to Gaunt; for though the island seemed to promise
that he and his party would never be likely to want for the means of
sustaining life, here was a supply of food which, carefully looked
after, would be the means of affording them many a dainty dish.  The
fresh morning air had again sharpened the solitary man's appetite, which
now admonished him that it was high time to think seriously about
breakfast, and the loud continued clucking of the hen which had laid an
egg reminded him that fresh eggs were very good for breakfast.  His
first intention was to confiscate that egg; but a moment's reflection
showed him that if left alone it might eventually become a chicken, and
thus considerably increase in value.  He therefore decided to forego the
gratification of fresh eggs for breakfast, and to turn his thoughts in
some other direction.

It occurred to him that fresh eggs being, in the existing state of the
market, too expensive a luxury for breakfast, fresh fish might serve as
a very satisfactory substitute; he therefore made his way to the beach,
and taking his fishing-line, launched the raft and went off as far as
the inner edge of the reef, wondering meanwhile how the presence of
those domestic fowls could be accounted for upon the island.  If the
_Mermaid_ had not obviously been wrecked too recently to admit of the
existence of so nourishing a brood, he would have thought that they must
have formed part of the live stock of that vessel, and that when she
struck and her decks were swept, the coops had been smashed and the
fowls had succeeded in effecting their escape to the shore.  This,
however, was impossible on the face of it, and he knew not how otherwise
to account for it, unless they had been landed and left by some passing
ship, which seemed even more improbable.

He was not long in reaching the inner edge of the reef, where he laid in
his oars, baited his hook with one of a few shell-fish with which he had
provided himself for the purpose, and dropped the line into the water,
where it had not been above half a minute when he felt a tremendous tug.
Pulling up the line quickly, he found that he had captured a
magnificent nine-pounder in splendid condition, the fish being very like
a salmon in shape, make, and colour, excepting that it had a longer,
sharper head, and a finer tail.  Securing his prize, he at once put
about and made for the shore, as he was anxious to reach the camp on the
other side of the island that evening.

Having caught his fish, the next question was how it could be cooked.
He had been revolving this matter in his mind on his return journey from
the reef, and remembered having somewhere read of a process which he
thought would suit his present condition.  He remembered having noticed
an outcrop of clay not far from where he had camped on the previous
evening, and making his way to the spot, he secured a sufficient
quantity to serve his purpose.  The next thing he required was a
quantity of leaves, and he plunged into the woods to search for some
which might be suitable.  He found plenty, but they were all of a class
unknown to him, and as they would come into intimate contact with his
food in the process of cooking, he hesitated about making use of them;
so pushing on a little further, he was fortunate enough to discover an
orange-tree laden with both blossoms and fruit in every stage, from the
little hard green ball the size of a marble, up to the perfect fruit
just changing from dark olive green to a golden yellow.  The leaves of
this tree would suit his purpose admirably; so gathering as many as he
required, as well as three or four of the finest specimens of the
ripened fruit, he returned to the beach.  Here he at once proceeded to
mould a portion of the clay into a rough semblance of a long narrow dish
of dimensions suitable for the reception of the fish.  This clay dish he
thickly lined with orange leaves, upon which he laid his fish entire as
it had come out of the water, covering it with another thick layer of
orange leaves, and then with a thick coating of clay, so that the
completed structure resembled a roughly moulded clay pie with the fish
wrapped in orange leaves in its centre.  He now proceeded to light a
fire, and when the brushwood of which it was composed had been reduced
to a mass of glowing red-hot embers, his clay pie was carefully
deposited in the centre; fresh brushwood was heaped thickly on the top,
and he then sat down to await results.  In about half an hour the clay
showed signs of cracking, which told him that his culinary operations
were complete; so dragging the mass out from among the embers, he
proceeded to carefully break away the top layer of clay, and there lay
his fish cooked to perfection, a dish fit for a king.  Upon this fish,
and a portion of the bread which he had procured from the wreck on the
previous evening, he breakfasted royally; washing down the whole with a
moderate libation of wine, and topping off with a couple of oranges,
after which he was ready to start on his homeward journey.  Before
going, however, he hauled up his raft as high as he could get it on the
beach, placed the two oars in safety beside the carpenter's tool-chest,
and roughly thatched over the latter with palm-leaves to protect it from
the weather.

The long pull of a mile up the steep slope leading to the base of the
cliff tested his unaccustomed energies very severely, and the toilsome
scramble up through the precipitous incline of the gap taxed them still
more; so that when he at length reached the top of the cliff, he was
glad enough to fling himself down in the long grass and allow himself
half an hour's rest and the refreshment of a pipe.  At the end of that
time he once more set forward, shaping his course so as to pass to the
southward of the mountain, and from thence down the steep ravine to the
edge of the river, the left bank of which he determined on this occasion
to follow.  As he pursued his journey he could not help being struck,
and very agreeably impressed, with the wonderful fertility of the
island, and the great variety of its products.  The trees were many of
them of immense size, and though there were many species, the names and
natures of which he knew nothing about, he was able to identify on the
upper slopes of the mountain the pine, the fir, and what looked very
much like a species of ash; whilst on the table-land and on the slopes
of the ravine the teak, mahogany, and jarrah, as well as the cocoanut
and two or three other varieties of palm flourished in abundance, to say
nothing of the bamboo, several groves of which he passed through during
the course of the day.  Of fruits also there was a great variety, among
others the pine-apple, banana, plantain, pawpaw, granadilla, guava,
orange, loquat, durian, and the cocoanut.  Several species of cane also
flourished luxuriantly, and among them he found what he believed, from
its general appearance and its taste, to be a wild sugar-cane.  But what
perhaps gratified him more than all was to meet here and there with
little patches of maize.

Of animal life also there was no lack.  Of snakes there were more and in
greater variety than he at all cared to see, and in addition to these
the forest was alive with monkeys of several varieties, to say nothing
of other animals whose quick movements would not permit him to identify
them.  Insects, as might be expected, swarmed in countless millions,
some of them being most grotesque in form and colour.  Butterflies of
unusual size flitted about from flower to flower, and the upper branches
of the trees were fairly alive with birds of the most brilliant plumage,
among which he noticed two or three varieties of the parrot tribe,
whilst birds of paradise were there in such numbers that he thought he
might not inappropriately name his new domain "Paradise Island."  Where
the ground was sufficiently open to permit of their growth, flowering
shrubs and plants with blossoms and blooms of the loveliest colours, and
some of them of the most delicate perfumes, abounded; and among the
shrubs there were several which he believed to be spice-bearing plants.
After a fatiguing but nevertheless very enjoyable tramp, he arrived, at
about two o'clock in the afternoon, at the margin of the lake, and at
once took measures for swimming across to the islet in its centre.
Collecting a large bundle of rushes, he stripped, and placing his
clothes and his other belongings upon the flimsy raft thus formed, and
stepping into the cool refreshing water, struck quickly out into the
centre of the lake, pushing his raft before him.

As he approached the islet he noted with great satisfaction that, so far
as he could then see, the place was admirably adapted for the head-
quarters of the little party so long as it might be necessary for them
to remain in their island prison.  There were trees in abundance on the
islet, and of many varieties, but they did not grow so thickly together
as they did on what we may call the mainland, large spaces of open
prairie being discernable here and there, which Gaunt already mentally
devoted to the process of cultivation.  Swimming quietly he reached the
islet with very little fatigue, and, dressing himself, at once set about
looking for the wherewithal for a dinner.  He had not far to go, for he
had scarcely plunged into the first grove of trees when a large bird
took wing from among the branches, and, raising his rifle, he succeeded
in bringing it to the ground.  It proved to be a brush-turkey, which he
forthwith proceeded to pluck and prepare for the spit; lighting a fire
meanwhile, so that it might burn well up and be in a fit state for
cooking when wanted.  The turkey was cooked--after a fashion--and if it
was not as well done as the engineer could have wished, it was still
sufficiently so to satisfy his hunger, after which he set out to explore
the islet.

It was of no very great size, being about ten acres in extent, or
thereabouts, but its surface was finely broken up into miniature hills
and dales in such a way as to not only make the spot appear larger than
it really was, but also to present a very pleasing variety of aspect to
the eye.  He found here a spring of fresh, clear, cool water, which was
a source of great satisfaction to him, as the water of the lake, being
in direct communication with the sea, was somewhat brackish, too much so
at all events to render it a desirable liquid for drinking and culinary
purposes; and the presence of this spring would avert all necessity for
a search on the mainland and a possible difficulty of securing a
sufficient supply without much labour.

Having an eye to the presence of the children upon this islet, Gaunt was
peculiarly inquisitive in the matter of reptiles, and it was a great
relief to his mind to discover that if any such were on the islet they
were so scarce that during his entire search round and through it he did
not encounter a single snake.  So far as he could see there were no
animals to be found upon it, though birds were, of course, in as great
variety and numbers as they were on the mainland of the large island.

He was fortunate enough to find, not very far from the spot on which he
had landed, a shelving piece of beach running down into deep water,
which would serve him admirably as a site on which to build his proposed
boat, and near it--distant, in fact, not more than two hundred yards--
there was a small grove of palms and other trees which would serve
admirably as a shelter from the sun for his proposed house.

His survey of the islet completed, he again entered the water, and, with
his raft of rushes ahead of him as before, quietly paddled across to the
shore on the right back of the stream, which he now proposed to follow
down to its junction with the sea.  A walk of about six miles brought
him to the mouth of the little estuary, which he found perfectly
concealed from the sea, in consequence of the river taking a sudden bend
and then doubling again almost upon itself between two low bluffs which
rose steeply out of the sea.

At this point there was no beach whatever, the shore being rocky and
precipitous; but somewhat further on the slopes of the land became
gentle, and a sandy beach was met with which, after a walk of some seven
or eight miles, brought him out at the spot on which he had originally
been landed from the ship, and within full sight of the encampment where
dwelt the rest of the party.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

GAUNT'S PONTOON RAFT.

His arrival, which took place just as tea was about being served in the
camp, was greeted with great rejoicing by all hands, but especially by
Mrs Gaunt; who, notwithstanding the assurances of Doctor Henderson, was
beginning to feel serious alarm on account of her husband's prolonged
absence.

Of course there was much to tell on both sides.  The principal item of
news from the Doctor was that he and Nicholls had between them
contrived, during the two days of Gaunt's absence, to erect a very roomy
and by no means uncomfortable shelter for the men of the party; in
addition to which the whole of their goods and chattels were now placed
in perfect safety so far as the weather was concerned.

No adventures of any description had been met with by any of the party;
a circumstance which was no doubt largely due to the especial care which
Doctor Henderson had exercised in keeping them all close to the shore,
from a suspicion he had entertained that the forest depths might not be
altogether safe travelling, at least for women and children.

Gaunt's story of his journey to the wreck, with the vivid description he
gave of the fertility and general productiveness of their island-home,
greatly raised the spirits of the listeners; and the sanguine way in
which he spoke of their ability to build the little vessel which he
contemplated, caused them already to feel as if their days on the island
were numbered.

The chief point calling for consideration was how they should dispose of
themselves in the immediate future.  Their position was this: they were
then located on the eastern end of the island; the lake and the islet
were situated almost in the centre of their domain, or say at a point
about six miles distant, as the crow flies, from the point where they
then were; whilst the spot where the wreck lay, if measured in the same
way, would be about five miles further on.

Gaunt made it so clear to them that the islet was the most fit and
proper spot at which to establish their head-quarters that that matter
might be considered as already definitely settled.  But they would have
to draw all, or nearly all, the materials for the proposed craft from
the wreck; and that wreck would not only have to be broken up, but the
timber, etcetera, would have to be conveyed to the islet before a
permanent settlement could be established there.  Had the party
consisted of men only, there was no doubt their best plan would have
been to remove in a body to the western end of the island, and to have
established themselves temporarily on or near the beach close to the
wreck whilst she was being broken up; but it seemed to be rather a
hardship that the women and children should have to be removed there--
involving a somewhat lengthy and arduous journey--and to go into
temporary quarters only to have to return gain over a great deal of the
same ground afterwards, Gaunt's idea was that the ladies and children
might be safely placed on the islet, and comfortably housed there in the
first place; after which the three men of the party could go over to the
wreck and remain there until everything of value were got out of her, he
undertaking to visit the islet at least once every day to ascertain that
all was going well in that direction.  This proposition, however, met
with no favour from the parties chiefly interested; and so it was
ultimately resolved that, notwithstanding the inconvenience, the entire
party should settle down for the time being on the western side of the
island.

On the following morning this resolution was put into effect, the little
band taking with them nothing but just such arms as were deemed
absolutely essential to their safety, and the tinware, knives and forks,
and other small table conveniences with which Ned's forethought had
supplied them.

On this occasion Gaunt, who of course acted as guide, struck off in a
new direction; as, having made a sketch-plan of the island when he was
on the summit of the mountain, he believed it possible to reach the
wreck by a much shorter route than the one he had followed.  Keeping
somewhat more to the right, or in a more northerly direction than on the
first occasion, he brought his companions out upon the banks of the
stream at a distance of about two miles below the lake, where the
channel was somewhat wider than in any other portion of its course, and
where the current was particularly gentle.  Here it became necessary to
construct a raft of some description for the transport of the party
across the stream; but, as the water was perfectly smooth, anything
which would bear their weight and hold together during the passage was
considered sufficient, and with the aid of their axes such an affair was
knocked together in about three hours.  The transit was then safely
accomplished; and, climbing the steep slope of the ravine through which
the stream flowed, they found upon reaching its summit that they had
arrived at a spot overlooking the lake, and from which they were enabled
to obtain an excellent view both of it and the islet which occupied its
centre.  The ladies were especially delighted at the prospect of finding
a home in so lovely a spot; whilst Henderson cordially agreed with Gaunt
that it would be difficult to find a safer place and one more suitable
in every respect for head-quarters.

Pushing on, they arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon at the
base of the mountain; and here, in a pretty little meadow which lay
between two of its projecting spurs, they determined to encamp for the
night, the children, although they had been carried for the greater part
of the day, being extremely tired, and the ladies scarcely less so.  A
little hut of branches and palm-leaves was constructed as a shelter for
the weaker members of the party during the night, the men contenting
themselves with the soft luxuriant grass for their sleeping place; and,
then, whilst Nicholls set to work to build a fire, Gaunt and Henderson
went off in different directions to forage for a supper.

The night passed without adventure or alarm of any description,
although, as a measure of precaution, the men had deemed it advisable
that each should watch for an equal portion of the night; and on the
following morning after an early breakfast the march was resumed.  The
gap in the cliffs was reached about two o'clock that afternoon; and by
three the travellers found themselves on the beach at its nearest point
to the wreck.

The first matter to be attended to now was the erection of shelters of
some description.  Henderson undertook to cut down a couple of saplings
which Gaunt pointed out as suitable for the purpose; and whilst he was
engaged upon this task the engineer, accompanied by Nicholls, went off
to the wreck, their object being to procure not only a small quantity of
ship's stores, but also one of the sails, which they intended to utilise
in the construction of tents.  On arriving alongside and making a minute
inspection of the wreckage, it was found that the raffle was so
complicated that to cut away the sail from its yard as it then lay and
to convey it to the shore would be a work of very great difficulty; so,
after a short consultation together, Gaunt and Nicholls decided to cut
the whole adrift from the wreck and then warp it ashore just as it was.
Nicholls accordingly get to work upon this task with his axe; and whilst
he was thus engaged Gaunt searched for and found the boatswain's locker,
rummaging in which he discovered a small grapnel just suited to his
purpose.  This he conveyed on deck, and, unreeving as much of the
running-gear as he could get at, a good long warp was made by bending
the whole together end to end.  By the time that his preparations were
completed, Nicholls had got the wreckage cut completely adrift from the
hull, and the two men now proceeded to carefully coil down upon Gaunt's
raft the whole of the warp; the grapnel being bent on to one end, whilst
Nicholls, who was going to remain on the wreckage, retained possession
of the other.  Gaunt then pulled shoreward; and as soon as the full
length of the warp was paid out he dropped the grapnel overboard and
then made the best of his way back to the wreckage, which Nicholls had
already begun to drag shoreward by the warp.  The progress of the
wreckage shoreward was very slow; but it improved somewhat when Gaunt
was able to rejoin his companion.  As the warp was hauled in it was
carefully coiled down on the wreckage; and when at length the grapnel
came to the surface it and the warp were once more promptly transferred
to the raft and a fresh cast was made, by which means they managed in
about an hour and a half to get the spars with all attached so close to
the beach that they grounded.  It was now a comparatively easy matter to
cut it apart and so obtain the sail, which was the first thing they
required.  The forecourse was selected, as being of considerable
dimensions; and this, when detached from its yard, was dragged up on the
beach and spread out to dry.  With this sail, and rope procured from
among the rigging which had come ashore attached to the spars, they were
able to construct two capital tents; and by night-fall the little party
found themselves snugly housed.

The two succeeding days were devoted to the construction of a shed of
dimensions sufficient to contain all that they thought would be likely
to prove valuable to them among the stores and the cargo of the ship.
The structure was twenty-four feet long, by eighteen feet wide, and
eight feet high to the eaves; and it had a regular pitched roof, with
gable-ends, so that when the rainy season came--as come, Gaunt felt
certain it would--the wet might be thrown off, leaving the goods beneath
its shelter undamaged.  It was not a very substantial affair, the four
corner-posts being the strongest portion of it, formed as they were by
the trunks of four standing cocoanut-trees, the sides and roof being
wattled and afterwards thatched with palm-leaves.  But the engineer
thought it would serve its purpose; and his great object was to get
everything he could from the wreck in the shortest possible time,
because, lying where she was, she might, and probably would, go to
pieces on the occasion of the first heavy gale which might spring up.

The shed completed, their next task was to secure everything which might
prove of any possible value to them from the cargo of the wreck.  In
order to transfer these articles from the hulk to the shore a raft would
be necessary; and a raft would also be required to eventually convey
those goods round to the islet.  The latter transfer would involve the
expenditure of an immense amount of labour and time unless the wind or
some other motive power could be pressed into their service; and Gaunt
had already learned during the course of his professional experience
that when any important work had to be performed it was better and more
economical in every way to provide efficient "plant" in the first
instance.  Now the construction of the vessel which he had in
contemplation was a simple and easy enough matter to a shipwright with
all the usual appliances at his disposal, but was really an important
and formidable task to people situated as these were; and, therefore,
when talking the matter over together, they had, influenced by Gaunt's
arguments, resolved to devote the time and labour required to construct
such aids as he seemed to think would be necessary and desirable.  To
convey from where they then were round to the islet all that they would
require for the construction of their vessel would, with an ordinary
raft propelled by oars alone, involve a vast amount of labour and time;
and it was ultimately decided that it would be more expeditious in the
long run if a raft could be constructed of such a character that she
could be moved in any required direction by sails.

After a little thinking, Gaunt came to the conclusion that it would be
possible to construct such a raft, and he set to work to plan it.  The
structure, as decided upon by him, consisted of two flat-bottomed
straight-sided pontoons, each twenty-four feet long by six feet wide,
and six feet deep, their ends being curved up from the bottom until they
met the deck in a sharp chisel-like form.  These pontoons were built
with their fore-and-aft centre lines parallel, and were constructed on
separate pairs of ways, the whole of the materials being obtained from
the wreckage already strewn along the beach, and such portions of the
deck-planking of the wreck as could be removed without exposing the
cargo to the risk of damage by sea or rain.  The bottom-planking was
laid athwartships, and four of the planks at equal distances from each
other were carried right through from pontoon to pontoon--the pontoons
being built with a space of six feet clear between them--thus securely
connecting the two pontoons together.  The pontoons were decked all
over, the deck-planking for a length of twelve feet in the middle
portion being also carried right across from one to the other.  The two
pontoons were thus securely fastened together above and below, the
result being that the entire structure formed a good, substantially-
built raft, having in its centre portion a platform or deck measuring
twelve feet fore and aft, and eighteen feet athwartships.  The craft--if
one may dignify the structure with such a name--was rigged with one
mast, situated exactly in the centre, and well supported by shrouds on
each side, and she was provided with a lateen or three-cornered sail
bent to a very long yard composed of a number of bamboos fished
together.  The yard was hung in its centre, an arrangement by which
Gaunt hoped to succeed in making his raft sail with either end foremost
with equal facility, his idea being to work the craft precisely upon the
same principle as that adopted by the Ladrone Islanders in the working
of their flying-proas.

This raft, though of such literal dimensions, was very easy and simple
to build, as there was no shaping of timbers and no elaborate
workmanship of any kind required, the only matter involving any
considerable degree of care being that the two pontoons should be
watertight; and this of course was very easily managed.  But, simple as
the work was, it was fully a month before the raft was ready for
service, though when they at length got her afloat and tried her under
sail the result was satisfactory, far beyond their most sanguine
anticipations.

They were now in a position to attack the wreck in good earnest, which
they did by rigging up a pair of sheers on deck and hoisting the cargo
from the ship's hold and depositing it directly on the raft alongside.
The cargo proved to be, as had been expected, a general cargo--that is
to say, it consisted of more or less of almost every conceivable product
of a civilised country, from lucifer matches up to railway plant and
machinery.

It was a very difficult matter to decide what might, and what might not
be of value to the party, and the result was that they eventually
determined to land the entire cargo.  Of course only a very small
portion of it would go into the shed which they had erected; but this
was a matter of no very great moment, for a great deal of it was of such
a nature that rain would not very materially injure it.  It took them
another month to empty the wreck, and then they set about the task of
breaking her up.

To break up a ship is, under ordinary circumstances, no very difficult
matter, but as they expected that they would be dependent almost
entirely upon the wreck for the timber necessary to the construction of
their little ship, they had to go carefully to work; and as it was all
manual labour, and they were very weak-handed, they found the task one
of no ordinary difficulty.  At length, however, after nearly another
month's arduous toil, they had cut her down to the water's-edge, and
there they were obliged to leave her.

Hitherto they had not allowed themselves time to very closely
investigate the nature of the cargo which they had so laboriously
conveyed to the shore, their chief anxiety being to secure from the
wreck every scrap likely to be of the slightest use to them, before the
change of, the season and the break-up of the weather should render this
impossible.  Now, however, they had leisure to give their booty a
thorough overhaul; and this was the next task to which they devoted
themselves.  As, however, they were now no longer pressed for time, and
one man could easily do most of what was required to be done in that
way, it was arranged that Doctor Henderson should examine the cargo as
far as he could, and prepare a detailed list of the various goods and
articles of which it was composed; whilst Gaunt and Nicholls should
proceed in the raft on a trip of exploration round the bay, for the
purpose of discovering an outlet in the reef which the former believed
to exist, and, if such an outlet could be found, to proceed through it
and make a short trial trip to sea for the purpose of testing the
sailing qualities of the raft.

On the morning following the completion of their work of dismemberment,
therefore, these two tasks were taken in hand.  Such cases and packages
as it was thought the doctor would have a difficulty in breaking open
unaided were attacked by the three men, and their contents laid bare;
and then Gaunt and Nicholls got on board the raft--which was berthed at
a short distance from the beach and made thoroughly secure by being
moored with the ship's smallest kedge--and, hoisting her huge lateen
sail, cast off from the mooring-buoy, and proceeded to execute a few
trial evolutions preparatory to the exploration of the reef.  The mode
of working the raft under sail was, as has already been intimated, the
same in principle with that in vogue among the Ladrone Islanders; that
is to say, the vessel was sailed indifferently, with either end
foremost, the sail being always kept on the same side of the mast.  In
order to accomplish this two broad-bladed steering-oars were necessary--
one for each end of the craft--and a long tripping-line, with its ends
bent on to either end of the yard, hanging down in a bight on deck, so
that by its means the end of the yard which was to form the tack might
be hauled down on deck.  It will be understood that when plying to
windward a craft so rigged is never thrown in stays, but when it is
necessary to go on the opposite tack her stern is thrown up to windward
by means of the steering-oar, which is then laid in; the end of the yard
which is down on deck and made fast is released, and the opposite end of
the yard is hauled down and secured; the sheet is transferred from one
end of the vessel to the other; the steering-oar at that end is laid
out; and the vessel, gathering way, moves off in the required direction.
It is probably the most simple mode of working a craft known to
navigating mankind, and it obviates all possibility of missing stays; a
difficulty which mainly induced Gaunt to adopt it on board his raft.
This was the first occasion upon which it had had a fair trial, and it
was found to answer admirably; the raft proving to be not only so stiff
as to be absolutely uncapsizable, but also remarkably fast considering
her shape, a speed of six knots being got out of her unloaded and with a
good fresh breeze blowing.

As soon as the somewhat novel mode of working her had been
satisfactorily tested, the exploration of the reef was begun in earnest.
They cruised along its inner edge to the southward in the first
instance, and discovered several places where it would probably have
been possible for them to pass out to sea; but in every case the
channels, if indeed they were worthy of the name, were so narrow and
tortuous that Gaunt had no fancy for attempting them unless as a last
resource.  They next tried the northern side of the bay; and here they
were more successful, for just where the reef seemed to join the land
there was a channel of about one hundred feet in width, nearly straight,
and trending in a north-westerly direction, with so much water in it
that the sea only broke in one or two places throughout its entire
length.  This channel was all that they could desire; for as the
prevailing wind seemed to be about south-west, they were enabled to pass
in and out of the bay with the sheet slightly eased off.

Standing through this channel, which was only about a quarter of a mile
long, they soon found themselves in the open sea, with a considerable
amount of swell, over which the raft rode with a buoyancy which was most
satisfactory to her designer.  If Gaunt had any doubt whatever about the
strength of any portion of his novel construction it was in the
transverse bracing which connected the bottoms of his two pontoons, and
he was therefore rather anxious for the first ten minutes or quarter of
an hour after he found himself fairly in the open sea.  But the bracing
was found amply sufficient to give the required rigidity, and this fact
once demonstrated he kept away before the wind, and coasted along the
northern shore of his island, keeping at a sufficient distance from the
tremendously lofty cliffs to prevent his being becalmed.  With the wind
over her quarter the raft travelled remarkably fast, and within an hour
of the time when she passed out through the channel she was abreast of
the entrance to the river--which, by the way, was so effectually masked
that Gaunt actually ran past it, and arrived off a point which they had
seen from their original landing-place before he became aware of the
fact.  Retracing his way, the engineer, after a careful search, found
the opening and passed into the river.  Their course for the first two
miles was dead to windward; but the raft sailed remarkably near the
wind, and held her own even better than her designer had believed to be
possible--the long, flat sides of the two pontoons seeming to act the
parts of leeboards, and so preventing her from making any perceptible
leeway.  They reached the lake, sailed round the islet, landed there,
and procured a liberal supply of fruits of various descriptions, which
seemed to grow more luxuriantly and of a finer flavour there than on the
mainland, and then embarking once more made the best of their way back
to the bay, where they anchored the raft and proceeded on shore in a
small boat, which had been built as a sort of tender to the larger
craft.

They found Henderson still busy with his examination of the cargo, and
Gaunt in particular was highly delighted with its multifarious
character.  There were many articles which he foresaw would be of the
utmost use to them in the construction of their little ship, but perhaps
the find which delighted him most was a large circular saw.  When his
eye fell upon this his vivid imagination at once pictured it as in
operation in a mill erected upon a spot which he had already recognised
as most suitable for the purpose; and he saw, too, that now they need no
longer be dependent upon the old ship-timber, full of bolt and trenail
holes, for the timber and planking of their craft, as they would be
enabled with the assistance of the saw to provide themselves with all
the planking, and, indeed, timber of every description which would be
necessary in their work, from the magnificent teak and other trees which
grew in such abundance on the island.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

CAPTAIN BLYTH AND YOUNG MANNERS REAPPEAR.

Having now secured from the wreck every scrap which it was possible to
obtain, the little party had more leisure than they had had since the
moment of their landing; for there was now no longer any fear that if a
gale sprang up they would sustain any material loss.  True, the greatest
part of their work still remained to be done; but there was no longer
the same necessity for hurry that there had been whilst any portion of
the cargo remained at the mercy of wind and wave, and they therefore
resolved that in future they would take matters a little more easily.
The next portion of their task consisted in the conveyance of everything
landed from the wreck round to the islet; which the ladies had suggested
should be called "Fay Island," its exquisite and fairy-like beauty
seeming to them to render such a name appropriate.  The men of the party
were by this time beginning to feel that of late they had somewhat
overworked themselves; they needed rest, and they determined to indulge
in a couple of days' holiday before engaging in the task of
transhipment.  Up to this time the ladies had found themselves unable to
render any very material assistance; yet they had not been altogether
idle, for under Doctor Henderson's directions, and with his assistance,
they had succeeded in luring into large wicker-work baskets, which the
doctor had very ingeniously framed, the whole of the fowls; the capture
consisting of three cocks, fourteen or fifteen hens, and a couple of
broods of chickens.  So that, with a little careful management they now
believed they need never be at a loss for eggs, or even an occasional
dinner of roast fowl.

During the two days of holiday which the men permitted themselves
Henderson employed himself in wandering about the island, gun in hand,
in search of botanical and natural history specimens; and he not only
secured several rare birds, the skins of which he managed to cure, but
also some very valuable medicinal plants.  Gaunt and Nicholls, on the
other hand, chose to devote their time to a further and more complete
examination of the island, the result being that they discovered a very
much more suitable site for the shipbuilding-yard than the one already
fixed upon; a site which, though somewhat further away from the spot
where they had intended to build their house, was much more secure and
less liable to discovery by an enemy, should such unhappily make his
appearance.

Nothing worthy of mention occurred during these two days, and on the
morning of the third work was once more resumed with a will.  The task
of reloading the raft proved, as had been anticipated, a somewhat
laborious one, and, indeed, their first idea had been that instead of
discharging on the beach it would be better to convey the goods direct
from the wreck round to the islet; but the loss of time which this would
involve seemed to them so serious that, rather than incur it and the
loss which might possibly result therefrom, they had decided to put up
with the inconvenience and the extra labour of an additional handling of
all their goods.  The real value of the raft and the wisdom which had
suggested her construction now became fully apparent, for she made two
and sometimes three trips a day between the west bay and Fay Island with
loads averaging about ten tons on each trip.

The day at length arrived when this part of their task drew so near its
completion that they expected to finish the transfer before evening; and
on this particular day they experienced a most agreeable surprise.  For,
as the raft, with Gaunt and Nicholls on board, was running down with its
last load, Nicholls caught sight of what he took to be a tiny sail in
the offing to the northward, to which he drew Gaunt's attention.  The
latter, who usually carried his telescope with him, at once brought the
instrument to bear upon the object, and found that Nicholls was right;
it was indeed a sail.  The craft, a very small one, was some four miles
to leeward when first descried, and notwithstanding the loss of time
which such a step would involve the engineer promptly bore up to examine
it.  As the two craft closed with each other it was seen that the small
sail was heading in for the island, and a few minutes later she was made
out to be an out-rigger canoe with two persons on board.  Her
construction was of so primitive a character that Gaunt naturally
expected to find that the persons on board her were natives who had
possibly been blown off the land, and, failing to make their own island
again, had perhaps been wandering aimlessly about the ocean for many
days.  What was his surprise, then, when he observed one of the
individuals rise in the canoe and lift something to his shoulder, the
movement being followed by a flash, a little puff of smoke, and the
faint report of a gun.  Keeping his glass fixed upon the canoe, Gaunt
next observed that the individual who had fired the gun was
gesticulating violently, the gesticulations being such as to convey the
idea of rejoicing rather than an effort to attract attention.  A few
minutes later the raft was so close to the canoe that the engineer,
almost doubting the evidence of his senses, was able to identify the two
persons in the canoe as none other than Captain Blyth and young Manners.
At the proper moment the raft was rounded-to, the canoe shot alongside,
and Captain Blyth, closely followed by young Manners with the canoe's
painter in his hand, sprang upon the deck of the raft and gave Gaunt a
hearty hand-grasp.

"My _dear_ fellow!" he exclaimed, "how _are_ you?  And you, too,
Nicholls, my lad--I did not expect to see _you_ here!  How are you, my
good fellow?  Well, Mr Gaunt," he continued, "this is the happiest day
I have known since the mutiny.  I am heartily glad to meet you once
more, sir, and to see you looking so well.  And how"--with a slight
shade of hesitation--"how are the rest of your party?"

"All perfectly well, thank you; and as happy as can reasonably be
expected under the circumstances," answered Gaunt.  "But where on earth
have you come from?" he continued; "and how did you manage to effect
your escape from the _Flying Cloud_?"

"We have come from a bit of an island away yonder, one hundred miles or
so to the eastward of the spot where we _now_ are.  And we did not
_escape_ from the _Flying Cloud_ at all, sir--John Blyth is not the sort
of man to voluntarily desert his ship as long as she will hang together
or float with him--no; we were simply shoved ashore by those scoundrels
of mutineers, and left to shift for ourselves as best we might.  And a
precious poor shift it would have been, I can tell you, but for Ned,
who--fine fellow that he is--managed somehow to scrape together for us
not only a fair supply of food, but also arms, a few tools, and nails
enough to knock that bit of a canoe together.  He gave us the exact
position of your island, and told us that _we_ might possibly get a
sight of the top of yonder mountain on a clear day--which, as a matter
of fact we did, once or twice--so that I knew exactly how to steer in
order to make a good land-fall.  And so you are all in good health, eh?
Well, I am delighted to hear that.  And where are the rest of your
party?  It will be a pleasant sight for my old eyes when they rest upon
the ladies and those dear children once more--bless their sweet innocent
little hearts!"

"You shall see them in good time--in the course of two or three hours--
as soon as we have landed our cargo and can work back to the western end
of the island, where our camp is at present located," answered Gaunt,
with a smile.  "But, tell me," he continued, "before our conversation
drifts away from the subject, where and how is Miss Stanhope?"

"She is--or was, when I saw her last--on board the _Flying Cloud_,"
answered the skipper.  "You must understand that I was landed from the
ship on the day following that on which they put you ashore here; so I
know nothing whatever about what may have happened to her since then.
But they let me wish her good-bye before I was landed, and I had a few
minutes' conversation with her; and, from what passed then and in a chat
I previously had with Ned, I am in hope that she is as safe as a girl
can be in the hands of such a set of ruffians.  It seems that they are
keeping Ned to navigate the ship for them; and they are keeping Miss
Stanhope as a hostage for his good faith, and to insure his dealing
honestly with them.  And from what I know of Williams I am not
altogether without hopes that so long as Ned faithfully obeys their
orders the young lady will be perfectly safe.  But, at best, her
situation is a very terrible one, and I would give my right hand this
moment to see her safe once more among us.  And now, tell me, what have
you been doing all the time, and what is the meaning of this raft and
her cargo?"

Gaunt, in reply, gave a pretty fully detailed account of all that they
had done, and of their future plans; winding up by expressing the
exceeding satisfaction he felt that the little party would now be
benefited by the aid and advice of two such valuable auxiliaries as the
skipper and young Manners.

Captain Blyth listened most attentively to everything the engineer told
him--the raft meanwhile being worked to windward toward the harbour's
mouth--and when he had heard everything he remarked:

"Well, so far you have done admirably; I do not believe matters could
have been managed better had I been here myself.  And as to this raft of
yours--if raft you call her--she is simply a wonder; why she turns to
windward like a racing cutter.  I am sure _I_ should never have dreamed
of scheming out anything half so handy.  You engineers are very clever
people, there is no denying that, and can even give an old salt like
myself a wrinkle now and then, as I have learned before to-day.  But
now, to say a word or two about the future.  You tell me that this is
your last cargo; and that on your next trip you propose to transfer all
hands to this bit of an islet that lies away inland there somewhere.
Now, let me ask you, have you had any craft of any description prowling
about in the neighbourhood lately?"

"We have not sighted a sail of any description since we saw the _Flying
Cloud's_ canvas sink below yonder horizon," answered Gaunt, pointing to
the eastward.

"So much the better," said the skipper; "and I am right glad to hear it.
These waters, as you may perhaps know, are not often traversed by the
craft of civilised nations; indeed, so far as I can make out, we are
quite out of all the regular ship-tracks.  But Manners and I have been
alarmed on two or three occasions on our own island yonder by the
appearance of proas--a class of craft which, I may tell you, are usually
manned by Malays, or semi-savages of a somewhat similar race and
character; and if any such should come prying about here they will
certainly beat up our quarters and give us no end of trouble.  Indeed,
to speak the whole truth, my dear fellow, I would as soon be in the
hands of a crew of mutineers as in theirs.  So, if you will listen to my
advice, our first job should be the building of a house large enough to
accommodate all hands; and, if possible, it should be so fortified as to
enable us to hold out with some chance of success against such an attack
as those fellows would be likely to make in the event of their looking
in here."

This was news indeed, the gravity and importance of which is would be
difficult to over-estimate.  Gaunt already knew something of the Malays
by reputation; and he was aware that Captain Blyth was speaking no more
than the truth when he asserted that the party would be certainly no
worse off in the hands of the mutineers than they would be in those of a
horde of Malay pirates, whose calling only fosters their natural
propensity for rapine and bloodshed.  He had heard one or two perfectly
hideous stories of atrocities committed by those wretches when
unfortunate ships' crews had fallen into their hands.  And he shuddered,
and his blood ran cold as his vivid imagination pictured the women and
children of the party in the hands and at the mercy of such a band.  In
this, as in every other case of difficulty or danger, the safety and
welfare of the women and children would naturally be the first
consideration; and Gaunt's first mental question was how would they be
affected by these tidings.  It was true, he reflected, that the proas
might _not_ visit the island; but, as it was evident that they were
cruising in the neighbourhood, it would be the height of folly to rely
only upon chance in such a matter.  And he forthwith began to turn over
in his mind what would be the best steps to take in the emergency.  It
would be possible for the weaker members of the party to find
concealment somewhere among the spurs of the mountain; but any such
arrangement as this, whilst highly inconvenient, would be open to many
other disadvantages.  And he could not help thinking of what their fate
would be, supposing that whilst lying thus concealed the men of the
party should be attacked and made captive or slain.  Were such a
catastrophe as this to befall them, the fate of those poor women and
children would be little better than a living death; left as they would
be to shift for themselves unaided, unprotected, and their hearts wrung
with anguish for the loss of those to whom they were naturally in the
habit of looking for help and protection, and with little or no chance
of ultimate escape from their island prison.  And, to add to the
difficulties of the situation, the little party were so weak-handed that
to construct such a fortified habitation as Blyth had suggested would
be, if not an absolute impossibility, a work of such time and labour
that for all practical purposes it might as well be unattempted.  This
was no case of ordinary difficulty; it was not a difficulty which could
be overcome by the skilful and judicious application of a practically
unlimited supply of manual labour.  And almost for the first time in his
life the engineer found himself confronted with a question which he was
unable to satisfactorily answer.

Whilst Gaunt was still revolving this difficult matter in his mind the
raft arrived at her usual berth at Fay Island, and her cargo was as
rapidly as possible discharged; after which she sailed at once for the
western settlement.  Here the unexpected appearance of Captain Blyth and
Bob Manners was greeted with every manifestation of surprise and
delight; and the former had, as a matter of course, to recount to his
interested friends the whole story of his sojourn upon, and escape from
the island upon which the pair had been landed.  The ladies were
naturally most anxious to learn the latest news concerning Miss
Stanhope; and the wary skipper, whilst telling them what little he knew
about her, did his best to allay their fears with regard to that young
lady, carefully concealing his own somewhat gloomy anticipations as to
her future.  And so successfully did he manage this business that Mrs
Henderson's heart was considerably lightened of the load which had for
so long a time been secretly pressing upon it.

As soon as it could be done without exciting suspicion in the minds of
the ladies, Gaunt contrived upon one pretext or another to draw away all
the male members of the party, to whom forthwith he disclosed the
alarming intelligence which Captain Blyth had brought to the island with
him; pointing out to them the new danger which thus threatened the very
existence of them all, and earnestly begging them to give the matter
their most serious consideration.  Suggestions were, of course, at once
offered in plenty, but they all possessed one very serious drawback;
they lacked practicability.  The least unpromising of them all was that
of Captain Blyth, who boldly advocated the abandonment of the scheme for
building a vessel; and proposed that, instead of incurring the delay and
risk involved in the carrying out of such a plan, the raft should first
be strengthened as much as possible, and that he, Manners, and Nicholls
should then sail in her to Singapore, from whence it would be easy to
dispatch a rescue vessel to the island to take off the rest of the
party.

But when this proposal came to be canvassed more in detail, it was found
that there were several very grave objections to it, the most grave of
them all lying in the fact that, according to their calculations, the
stormy season must now be close at hand; and, strengthen the raft as
much as they would, or could, Gaunt believed that if she happened to be
caught in a hurricane, nothing could prevent her going to pieces.
Moreover, Singapore was well to windward of the island they were then
upon, and, though the raft did very fairly upon a taut bowline in fine
weather and in a moderate sea-way, Gaunt expressed very grave doubts as
to how she would behave in a strong breeze and a heavy sea.  Then,
again, the absence of the skipper, Manners, and Nicholls would reduce
the defensive strength of those left behind to two men only, and that,
too, without any artificial protection, save such as their united
strength might enable them to throw up.  On the whole, after canvassing
the question thoroughly, it was decided that the skipper's plan was very
much too risky for adoption under the then existing circumstances of the
party, and they eventually came to the conclusion that no better course
seemed open to them than to carry out Gaunt's original plan--namely, the
construction of a house which should be strong enough to serve also as a
fort in case of need.

The next point to be decided was, of what material should the house be
constructed?  Of timber of a suitable character there was a
superabundance upon the island; nay, even on the islet itself there was
more than sufficient for their purpose.  But it would have to be cut,
sawn to the required dimensions, and hauled to the site of the building
before it could be made use of; and all this involved a very great deal
of labour, to say nothing of the fact that, when finished, the structure
could easily be destroyed by fire.  Gaunt was strongly of opinion that
stone was the most suitable material for the purpose; but,
unfortunately, he was by no means certain that a quarry could be found
in a convenient position, and at a convenient distance for
transportation.  If it could, he believed that shells in sufficient
quantities for the manufacture of lime could easily be collected on the
beach; and he had no doubt as to his ability to construct a kiln in
which to burn them.  As the engineer warmed with his subject he made the
superiority of stone over wood so evident that it was finally decided he
and Henderson should devote the next day to a search for a suitable
quarry; whilst the skipper, with Manners and Nicholls for his
assistants, was to essay the task of knocking up a temporary but
somewhat more efficient shelter for the party than the tents would
afford, pending the completion of the house or "fort," as they seemed
inclined to style the proposed structure.

In accordance with this arrangement, immediately after breakfast next
morning the tents were struck and placed on board the raft, and the
ladies and children also embarked in her to proceed round to Fay Island
in charge of Captain Blyth and his two assistants; whilst Gaunt and
Henderson, armed with their repeating rifles and an axe each in their
belts, set out in company for the gap in the cliffs, their intention
being to proceed overland, and to separate at the head of the river,
each taking one of its banks with the object of ascertaining whether any
suitable quarry-site could be found in a situation convenient for the
shipment of stone on board the raft.

The quest occupied the two friends for the greater part of the day, they
arriving abreast the islet within half an hour of each other, and
reaching its friendly shores just in time to assist the working party
there in putting the finishing touches to quite a respectable
structure--half tent, half bower--for which the skipper had acted the
part of architect-in-chief.  This structure had cost Captain Blyth a
vast amount of almost painful cogitation, and was the result of a little
fit of excusable, and perhaps natural pique, which had come over him on
finding how exceedingly well the two landsmen had managed without him.
From the moment of their being thrust out of the ship to that other
moment when he had rejoined them, they had scarcely been out of his
thoughts for an hour, and his commiseration for them--abandoned,
helpless, and deprived of the priceless advantage of his counsel and
experience--was dinned into the ears of young Manners to such a
wearisome extent that that officer, dutiful as he was, sometimes felt
inclined to wish he had been carried away like Ned by the mutineers,
instead of being accorded the privilege of the skipper's society.  And
now, behold! all the anxiety and commiseration which had been felt for
them turned out to have been wasted, thrown away.  The two quiet
undemonstrative men, whom the honest skipper, when ruefully meditating
upon their forlorn condition, had often likened to babes in arms, had
proved themselves to be fully equal to the situation in which they had
so unexpectedly found themselves, and had indeed managed so exceedingly
well that Captain Blyth found himself at a discount; and, whilst
heartily welcomed by them, was fully conscious that, save in the matter
of purely physical help and companionship, his presence was in no wise
an acquisition to them.  Hence the little fit of pique, the outcome of
which had been a resolve to show these two resourceful men that he,
plain, unpretending seamen though he was, knew a thing or two besides
how to handle or navigate a ship, and that, even when it came to such a
matter as the knocking up of an impromptu house, he was not disposed to
give way to anybody.  The house, or shelter rather, for it was too
rough-and-ready an affair to be worthy of the former appellation, was
really a very creditable production--roomy and weather-tight, though it
was doubtful whether it would prove capable of withstanding the
buffetting of a hurricane--and Captain Blyth was very justly proud of
it; and when Gaunt and Henderson (both of whom read the worthy man like
a book in large print) seemed to vie with each other as to who should
speak of it in the most complimentary and appreciative terms, the fit of
pique vanished like snow beneath a summer sun.  The wound to the
skipper's _amour propre_ was completely healed, and he was once more
happy.

On comparing notes it was found that both the explorers had been
successful in their search, both had found stone of a more or less
suitable quality, some of it, indeed, being excellent; but the honours
of the day fell to the doctor's lot, he having discovered not only a
quarry-site in a most convenient situation, with stone of a quality far
superior to anything that Gaunt had met with, but also an outcrop of
coal!  This discovery was of infinitely greater value to the party,
situated as they then were, than would have been the finding of a gold
mine, and Gaunt in particular--who perhaps realised more fully than any
of the others the exceeding importance of the discovery--was greatly
elated thereat.

Fully alive to the importance of developing these new resources without
delay, the five men started in the raft at daybreak next morning, well
provided with picks, shovels, crowbars, sledges, and such other
implements as it was thought might be useful, together with a keg of
powder from the magazine of the _Mermaid_, and made their way up stream,
Henderson acting as pilot.  The quarry was first reached, being situated
only about half a mile above Fay Island, and a single glance sufficed to
satisfy Gaunt that here was stone not only of splendid quality, but
amply sufficient in quantity for every possible want of the party.  The
quarry-face consisted of an almost perpendicular cliff of grey limestone
springing out of the soil at a distance of only some fifty feet from the
margin of the stream; it was about thirty-five feet in height, and fully
one hundred and fifty feet long, and of course of unknown depth, though
a very hasty examination of the top showed that it extended fully fifty
feet back from the face.  Captain Blyth and Nicholls landed here,
provided with the powder and such tools as they needed, and instructed
by the engineer--who promised to rejoin them, as soon as he had
inspected the coal outcrop--began at once to lay bare the stone at the
top of the cliff.  The rest of the party then proceeded in the raft to
the "mine," as they already began to term it, which they found about a
quarter of a mile further on.  The outcrop proved, as Henderson had
asserted, to be a genuine coal, and of very fair quality, too, with a
prospect of its improving as it was worked down into; and, most
important and fortunate for the discoverers, it, like the stone, was
situate close to the river bank, near enough in fact to permit of its
being loaded direct on the deck of the raft by means of a long wooden
shoot.  The doctor and young Manners willingly undertook to "get" such
coal as might be required--not a very large quantity in all
probability--and, stripping to the waist, at once set to work, whilst
Gaunt, who by this time had learned to manage the raft single-handed,
made his way back in that singular-looking craft to the quarry.

On rejoining the skipper and Nicholls, the engineer found that the two
men had worked to such excellent purpose that they had already laid bare
an area of some forty feet of stone, and disclosed a small fissure which
Gaunt thought would serve admirably to receive a blasting charge, which
he at once proceeded to prepare.  This operation was soon accomplished,
the fuse--a chemical preparation "made up" by Henderson the night
before--was lighted, and the trio hastily retreated to a place of
safety.  A minute later a faint _boom_ was heard, followed by a
tremendous crash and the rattle of falling fragments; and, hurrying back
to the spot, the workers found that, by a lucky accident, the charge had
been so placed as to dislodge and hurl down on to the bank beneath
upwards of twenty tons of stone.  After this there was no further
difficulty, for the layers happened to so run that a very little labour
with the bars sufficed to send the stone down on to the bank ready for
loading; and when any especial difficulty was experienced, a small
quantity of powder always proved sufficient to overcome it.  Such
capital progress, indeed, did they make, that in less than a month they
had not only quarried, but had actually transferred to the islet as much
stone as it was thought they would require.  By that time a very fair
quantity of coal was also ready for removal; and when this important
task was accomplished, a kiln was built, and Gaunt himself undertook the
manufacture of lime, whilst Henderson and the skipper proceeded to erect
a shed for the storage of the same, Nicholls meanwhile essaying the task
of putting up a smithy on the site of the future ship-yard, whilst
Manners busied himself in getting out the ground for the foundations of
the fort.

But before they were ready to begin their building operations in
earnest, the long-expected change of weather--or rather the change of
the seasons--had come upon them, and their work was somewhat retarded by
the setting in of heavy rains, accompanied by terrific thunderstorms and
occasional heavy gales of wind.  The course of the wind, too, had
changed; for whereas its prevalent direction hitherto, ever since their
landing upon the island, had been south-west, it now blew almost
unintermittently from the north-east.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE SKIPPER GOES IN CHASE OF A STRANGE SAIL.

The violent atmospheric disturbances which accompanied the change of the
seasons lasted about a month, after which the weather became tolerably
settled once more, though rain now fell, more or less heavily, every
day.  To work out of doors in the midst of pelting rain was by no means
pleasant, although there was no perceptible variation in the usual
temperature of the climate.  Still there existed in the breasts of all
so strong a feeling of insecurity so long as the "fort" remained
unbuilt, that they determined rather to suffer the unpleasantness of
being daily drenched to the skin than to protract the uneasy feeling of
defencelessness which haunted them.

The building, then, was pushed forward with all possible expedition,
and, thanks to the indefatigable energy with which they laboured, was so
far finished as to be habitable within a couple of months of its
commencement, though of course a great deal still remained to be done
before it could be regarded as absolutely secure.

The site for this house or fort--for when finished it really was strong
enough to merit the latter appellation--was finally fixed so as to
include within its limits a spring of pure fresh-water--an adjunct of
the utmost importance if it should ever fall to the lot of the occupants
to be placed in a state of siege, and it possessed the further advantage
of completely commanding both the land and water approaches to the
proposed ship-yard.  It was built in the form of a hollow square,
enclosing a small court-yard (which the ladies determined to convert
into a garden at the earliest opportunity) with the spring in its
centre.  One side of the house was set apart for the purpose of a
general living-room; the two contiguous sides were divided unequally--
the larger divisions forming respectively the doctor's and the
engineer's sleeping-rooms, whilst the smaller divisions served as
kitchen and larder; and the fourth side afforded ample sleeping
accommodation for the remainder of the party, with a store-room in one
angle of the building, and the magazine and armoury in the other.  The
windows all looked outward, but were small, and strongly defended with
stout iron bars built into the masonry, and with massive wood shutters
inside, loop-holed for rifle firing.  The doors giving access to the
rooms all opened upon the court-yard, and were as high and wide as they
could be made, so as to let in plenty of light and air.  For still
further security there was no doorway whatever in the exterior face of
the building, egress and ingress being possible only by means of a
staircase in the court-yard leading up on to the flat roof, and thence
down on the outside by means of a light bamboo ladder which could be
hauled up on the roof in case of need.  The roof, or roofs rather, had
only a very gentle slope or fall inward, just sufficient to allow of the
rain flowing off, and afforded a fighting platform at a height of about
fourteen feet from the ground, the defenders being sheltered by the
exterior walls, which were carried up some five feet higher and were
also loop-holed.  It seemed at first sight a great waste of labour to
build so strong a place as this for what they hoped would be a
comparatively brief sojourn; but, as Gaunt pointed out to them, there
was no knowing precisely how long their stay on the island might be
protracted, and if they were going to construct a defence at all, it was
as well, whilst they were about it, to construct something which should
effectually serve its purpose.  And after all, when the work came to be
undertaken, it was found that it took but little if any longer time than
would have been required to put up a wood house, and to surround it with
an effective palisade.

Another month saw the fort so far completed that Gaunt thought he might
now safely take in hand the saw-mill upon which he had set his mind; and
he and the skipper accordingly devoted themselves henceforward to that
undertaking, finishing it within a few days of the date when Henderson
reported that all was done at the fort which at that time was deemed
necessary.  The doctor and his party now took to the woods armed with
their axes, and began the important task of selecting and felling the
timber for the proposed boat, the design for which Gaunt had been
diligently working upon whenever he could find a spare hour or two to
devote to the purpose.  As ultimately worked out this design was for a
cutter, to be of twelve feet beam, forty feet long on the load-water
line, and of such a depth as would not only afford comfortable head-room
in the cabins, but also give the craft a good hold of the water and make
her very weatherly.  These dimensions, it was considered, were
sufficient for perfect sea-worthiness, whilst the various timbers would
be of a scantling light enough to permit of their being handled and
placed in position with comparative ease with the limited power at their
command.  The greatest care was exercised in the selection of the
timber, it being necessary to choose not only that which was thoroughly
sound, but also such as could without very much labour be conveyed to
the saw-mill.  This latter necessity, or rather the actual labour of
conveying the timber to the mill, caused their progress to be somewhat
less rapid than they had anticipated, especially as Nicholls was now
busily engaged at the smithy preparing the bolts, fastenings, and other
iron work for the little craft; but, notwithstanding all, the work
advanced with fairly satisfactory rapidity.  It had been decided that
the whole of the timber should be cut, sawn, and stacked in the ship-
yard before even the keel-blocks were laid down, so that it might become
at least partially seasoned before being worked into the hull, and this
was accomplished in rather less than a couple of months.

At length the day arrived when, everything being ready, the keel of the
vessel was to be laid down--a task which, the keel-piece being cut out
of one log, it took the little band an entire day to accomplish
satisfactorily.  And it was on the evening of this particular day, or
rather during the ensuing night, that the little colony sustained a loss
which plunged its members into grief so deep that its shadow never
entirely left them until long after the termination of their sojourn
upon the island.

It happened thus.  During the numerous passages of the raft to and fro
between the west bay and Fay Island a small reef had been discovered
some six miles north of the island, upon which reef, it had been further
discovered, a certain fish of peculiarly delicate and agreeable flavour
was to be caught between the hours of sunset and sunrise.  So very
delicious had this particular species of fish been found, that it had
become quite a custom for one or more of the men to take the raft after
the day's work was over and go off to the reef for an hour or two's
fishing, thus combining business and pleasure in a most agreeable
manner.  Captain Blyth especially always partook of the fish with quite
exceptional relish; and, it happening at this time that all hands had
been too busily occupied for any of them to go out for several days
past, the skipper thought he would celebrate so momentous an occasion as
the laying of the keel by a few hours' fishing upon the reef.
Accordingly, as the evening meal was approaching completion, he
announced his intention, at the same time inquiring if any of the others
felt disposed to join him.  All, however, confessed themselves to be too
tired to find pleasure in anything short of a good night's rest; and the
skipper therefore departed alone, Henderson calling out after him as he
went:

"Don't go to sleep and fall overboard, captain; and keep a sharp eye
upon the weather.  To my mind the wind seems inclined to drop, and if it
does it will probably shift.  And I suppose you have noticed that heavy
cloud-bank working up there to the westward?"

"Ay, ay, I've noticed it," answered the skipper good-humouredly, but
slightly derisive at what he considered the presumption of a landsman in
thinking it necessary to caution _him_ about the weather.  "Another
thunderstorm, I take it--they always work up against the wind; but I
shall be back again and safe in my bunk before it breaks.  Good-night!"

So saying, Blyth, pipe in mouth, strolled down to the tiny cove in which
the punt was moored, cast off the painter, and paddled out to the raft,
which rode to a buoy anchored about fifty yards distant from the beach.
Arrived alongside the raft he made fast the punt's painter to the buoy,
loosed the raft's huge triangular sail, mast-headed the yard by means of
a small winch which Nicholls had fitted for the purpose, cast off his
moorings, and began to work down the stream seaward, the wind being
against him.  He was not long in reaching the open water, and as he shot
out between the two headlands which guarded the mouth of the harbour he
noticed with satisfaction that the cloud-bank to which Henderson had
warningly directed his attention had already completely risen above the
horizon, and was slowly melting away under the moon's influence.  True,
the atmosphere was somewhat hazy, and the breeze was less steady than
usual; but the general aspect of the sky was promising enough, and if a
change of weather was impending it would not, the skipper told himself,
occur for several hours yet, or without giving him a sufficient warning
to enable him to regain the island in good time.

Arrived on the reef--over which, by the way, there was plenty of water,
four fathoms being the least the party had ever found upon it--the
expectant sportsman dropped his grapnel, lowered the sail, and threw his
lines overboard.  The sport, however, was not by any means good that
night, for it was fully half an hour before he got a bite; and the
interval which followed his first capture was so long that the skipper's
interest waned and his thoughts wandered off--as indeed they very often
did--to his ship; and he fell to wondering what had become of her,
whether the mutineers had actually gone the extreme length of carrying
into effect their piratical plans, whether Sibylla and Ned were still on
board, and, if so, how matters fared with them.  He was full of
commiseration for the two young people, both having taken a strong hold
upon his warm and kindly heart, and he scarcely knew which to pity
most--whether Sibylla, cruelly and perhaps permanently cut off from all
intercourse with her own sex and constantly in association with a band
of lawless men; or Ned, likewise a prisoner, with all his life's
prospects blighted, and in addition to this the never-ceasing care,
anxiety, and watchfulness which he must endure on Sibylla's account.
Most people would have been disposed to say at once and unhesitatingly
that the girl's lot was infinitely the worse of the two.  But the
skipper did not; he understood pretty well, or thought he did, the
position of affairs on board the _Flying Cloud_; and he knew to an
absolute certainty that so long as Ned had life and strength to protect
her Sibylla was reasonably secure.  But Ned, he repeated to himself,
would always have her safety and well-being upon his mind in addition to
his other cares and anxieties.  It was a miserable plight for both of
them, he mused, and he didn't see how they were to get out of it--
unless, indeed, they could manage to steal away in a boat and give the
ship the slip some fine dark night.  And what would become of them then?
he asked himself.  What chance of ultimate escape would they have?  He
knew Ned well enough to feel assured he would never attempt so extreme a
step without first making the fullest possible provision for the safety
of his companion and himself; but when all was done, what prospect would
they have of being picked up in those lonely seas?  He pictured them to
himself drifting helplessly hither and thither, exposed to the scorching
rays of the sun all day and the pelting rain at night; their provisions
consumed, their water-breaker empty, and hope slowly giving way to
despair as day and night succeeded each other, with no friendly sail to
cheer their failing sight and drive away the horrible visions which
haunt those who are perishing of hunger and thirst.  He saw Ned's
stalwart form grow gaunt and lean, and Sibylla's rounded outlines
sharpen and waste away under the fierce fires of hunger; and his soul
sickened within him as their moans of anguish smote upon his ear.  And
at last he heard Sibylla, in her agony and despair, entreat Ned to take
away the life which had become a burden to her.  And he saw and heard
too how Ned, his speech thick and inarticulate with torturing thirst,
first tried unavailingly to soothe and comfort and encourage the
suffering girl; and how at last, in sheer pity for her and mad
desperation at their helpless state, the lad drew forth his knife and
stealthily tested the keenness of its edge and point.  And as he
watched, with feverish interest yet unspeakable anxiety and horror, he
saw that the long-protracted suffering of himself and his companion had
at last proved too much for the poor lad and that his brain was giving
way; for look! the baleful light of madness gleams in his bloodshot
eyes!  Madness gives new strength to his nerveless limbs as he rises and
bends over his companion.  As he slowly uplifts his arm its shrunken
muscles swell beneath the skin as though they would burst it, his talon-
like fingers close with a grip of steel round the haft of the upraised
knife, Sibylla closes her eyes in patient expectancy of the stroke, the
blade quivers and flashes in the sunlight, and Captain Blyth, with a cry
of horror, starts forward--to awake at the sound of his own voice and to
find himself at the edge of the raft, in the very act of leaping into
the jaws of a shark which is eyeing him hungrily from the water
alongside!  He luckily checks his spring in time.  To seize the boat-
hook and strike savagely at the waiting shark with its point follows as
a matter of course; and then the skipper piously returns thanks to God
not only for his escape, but also that the events he has just been
witnessing are nothing more substantial than an ugly dream.

Blyth's next act is to haul in the lines which have dropped from his
nerveless hands during sleep, and which would unquestionably have been
lost had he not taken the precaution to make them fast; and he finds to
his chagrin that not only the bait but also the hooks have been carried
off.  He therefore neatly coils up his fishing-tackle preparatory to
shaping a course for home; for the moon is on the very verge of the
western horizon, and he knows therefore that it is past midnight.
Moreover, though the breeze is rather fresher than it was and the
horizon is clear, there is a murkiness in the atmosphere overhead which
portends a change of weather; and as he looks knowingly about him he
gives audible expression to his opinion that there will be but little
work done in the ship-yard on the morrow.

The grapnel is lifted, and the skipper, attaching the handle to the
winch, begins to mast-head the yard of the solitary sail which propels
the raft.  As he does so his eyes are directed towards the moon, now
slowly sinking beneath the horizon.  Ha! what is that?  The labour at
the winch is suspended, a hasty turn is taken with the halliard, and
Captain Blyth strains forward, his eyes shaded by both hands the better
to observe that black spot which is slowly gliding athwart the moon's
pale face.  Little need is there, though, for him to look so intently to
ascertain what that black spot really is; it is more for the purpose of
assuring himself that his eyes are not playing him false, or that he is
not once more the victim of a dream.  No; this is not a dream.  He is
wide awake enough now, and his mind is busy with a thousand tumultuous
thoughts, for, as he watches, clear and unmistakable glide the upper
sails of a large ship across the face of the sinking planet.  She is
steering south, but whether easterly or westerly it is impossible to say
as she stands out black and silhouette-like against her golden
background; but one thing is plain--she is moving very slowly.  The
skipper darts to the compass--one of a pair saved from the wreck of the
_Mermaid_--and striking a match, which he carefully shelters from the
wind in the crown of his cap, he manages to take her bearing before she
vanishes from his sight.  He next completes the setting of his sail,
hauls aft the sheet, and, jamming the raft close upon a wind, asks
himself what is the best thing to do.

To return to the island will consume an hour of most precious time; and
when there what could he do to attract the stranger's attention?
Nothing more than light a huge bonfire; and the only spot suitable for
this is the western side of the mountain, to reach which will consume at
least another hour.  Then there would be wood to collect, occupying say
another half-hour, making a total of at least two hours and a half
before such a signal could be rendered visible.  And perhaps, after all,
those on board the ship might not see it, or, seeing it, might not
understand its meaning--might suppose it to be nothing more than a fire
built by the natives, and so pass on their way.  No; that would not do--
the risk of failure would be too great.  What then?  There remained
nothing, in Captain Blyth's opinion, but to pursue the stranger.  She
could not, he thought, be going more than five knots, judging by the
strength of the breeze and the momentary glimpse he had obtained of her;
whilst the raft, light as she was and with the wind well over her
quarter, would go nearly or quite seven.  The strange sail was about
twelve miles off; therefore, if he could overhaul her at the rate of
about two knots per hour, he ought to be near enough to attract her
attention by sunrise.  But he must bear up in chase at once, there was
no time to waste in running ashore to make known his intentions; and as
for help, he wanted none, he was quite capable of managing the raft
single-handed.  Moreover, he began to suspect that Henderson would prove
to be right in that suggestion of his respecting a change of weather,
which made it all the more important that the strange sail should be
overhauled before the change should occur.

These reflections passed through the skipper's brain in a single
moment--not perhaps quite so definitely as here set forth, but to the
same purpose--and in the next he jammed his helm hard up, eased off the
sheet, and bore away upon a course which he conjectured would enable him
to intercept the stranger.

For a few minutes after the disappearance of the moon Blyth was able, or
fancied he was able, still to distinguish the canvas of the chase
looming up vaguely like a dark shapeless shadow upon the horizon; but
either the sky grew darker in that quarter or the weather thickened, for
he was soon obliged to admit that he could see it no longer.  But that
circumstance gave him not the least concern; he had set his course by a
star, and he knew that so long as he continued to steer for it, so long
would the course of the raft converge toward that of the stranger.  He
_was_ concerned, however, to notice later on that not only was the
weather thickening overhead, necessitating a frequent changing of the
star by which he was following his course, but also that the wind was
becoming unsteady; sometimes falling away to such an extent as to cause
the raft's sail to flap heavily as she rolled over the ridges of the
swell, and anon breezing up quite fresh again, but with a change of
perhaps a couple of points in its direction, the change generally being
of such a character as to bring the wind forward more on his starboard
beam.  Gradually the haze so thickened overhead that such stars as were
not already obscured grew dim and soon disappeared altogether, leaving
the solitary man dependent only upon the somewhat fickle wind for a
guide by which to steer his course; for though he had a compass on board
the raft, he had no binnacle, and no lamps by which to illuminate the
compass card.  It is true the island was still in sight, some four miles
astern, but the night had grown so dark and the atmosphere so thick that
the land merely loomed like a vast undefined blot of darkness against
the black horizon, being so indistinct indeed that only the practised
eye of a seamen could have detected its presence at all; it was
therefore useless as an object to steer by, even to so keen-eyed an old
sea-dog as Captain Blyth.

It had by this time began to dawn upon the skipper that his adventure
was likely to prove of a far more serious character than he had at all
contemplated; and he was earnestly debating within himself the question
whether his wisest course would not, after all, be to abandon the chase
and make the best of his way back to the island, when the breeze once
more freshened up so strongly, and that too dead aft, that it made
everything on board the raft surge again as she gathered way and skimmed
off before it.  And Blyth, calculating that even if the chase were
sailing away from instead of toward him it would shorten his distance
from her at least a couple of miles before she caught it, grimly held on
his course, determined to risk everything rather than lose so good a
chance; his chief fear now being that the sheet would part under the
tremendous strain brought to bear upon it by the immense sail.  The
raft, as has been elsewhere stated, was of very peculiar construction,
her shape and build being such as to peculiarly favour speed, especially
when running dead before the wind; and, light as she now was, she
skimmed away before the fierce squall at a rate which made Blyth's heart
bound with exultation as he looked first to one side and then the other
and noted the furious speed with which the phosphorescent foam from
under her bows was left behind.  There was now no longer any thought of
turning back, for, be it said, Captain Blyth--good honest soul--was a
devout believer in Providence; and he had by this time arrived at a firm
conviction, first, that it was by the special intervention of Providence
that he had been led to undertake his fishing excursion that night, and
next, that the freshening up of a dead fair wind just when it did was a
second special intervention of Providence to prevent his giving up the
chase.  And so he held on everything, and the raft rushed away dead
before the wind through the pitchy darkness, the mast creaking ominously
in its step every now and then, and the tautly-strained gear aloft
surging from time to time in an equally ominous manner; whilst the sea
rose rapidly--showing that the solitary voyager was fast drawing out
from under the sheltering lee of the island astern--and the foaming
wavecrests, vividly phosphorescent, momentarily towered higher and more
threateningly, and hissed louder and more angrily in the luminous wake
of the flying craft.

The squall lasted a full hour, when the wind died away even more
suddenly than it had arisen, and the raft was left tumbling about with
little more than steerage-way upon her.  The skipper had no means of
ascertaining the time, it being too intensely dark to permit of his
reading the face of his watch even when it was held close to his eyes,
though he made two or three unsuccessful attempts to do so; but, anxious
and impatient as he was for the dawn, he knew that it must be at least
another hour, perhaps nearer two, before he could reasonably expect its
appearance.  Two hours more of sickening suspense!  One hundred and
twenty minutes!  With the weather in such a threatening state what might
not happen in the interval!  If he could only have obtained an
occasional glimpse of the compass, or if the night had been less
opaquely dark he would not have cared so much.  For in the one case he
would have been enabled not only to keep a mental reckoning of his own
course, but also that of the chase as well, and to follow her
attentively no matter how capricious the breeze; whilst in the other
case he might have stood some chance of catching a momentary glimpse of
her.  As his reflections took this turn he stooped and looked ahead
under the foot of the sail; looked more intently; rubbed his eyes, and
looked again.  What was it he saw?  A light--lights?  Yes, surely; it
must be so, or were those faint luminous specks merely illusory and a
result of the over-straining of his visual organs due to the intensity
of his gaze into the gloom?  No; those feebly glimmering points of light
were stationary; they maintained the same fixed distance from each
other, and he could count them--one, two, three--half a dozen of them at
least, if not more, he could not be certain, for they were so very
faint.  What could it mean?  Was there a whole fleet of ships down there
to leeward?  That there was _something_ was an absolute certainty; and
as it seemed an impossibility that it could be anything else it was only
reasonable to conclude that it must be a ship or ships.  At all events
there could be no question as to the course he ought to follow; it would
be worse than folly to continue in pursuit of an invisible ship with
those lights in comparatively plain view only a couple of points on his
lee-bow.  So the skipper bore away until the faint luminous spots opened
out just clear of the heel of the long yard--which, it will be
remembered, was bowsed down close to the deck--and there he resolutely
kept them, the wind having by this time fallen so light that it was
necessary for him to make frequent sweeps with the steering-oar in order
to keep the raft's head pointed in the required direction.

Suddenly, a greenish spectral radiance beamed down upon him from above;
and, quickly casting a startled glance aloft, Blyth shudderingly beheld
a ball of lambent greenish light quivering upon the upper extremity of
the long tapering yard and swaying to and fro with the roll of the raft,
much as the flame of a candle would have done under similar
circumstances.  Clinging lightly to the end of the yard, it alternately
elongated and flattened as the spar swayed to and fro, now and then
rolling a few inches down the yard as though about to travel down to the
deck, but as often returning to the extremity of the yard again.
Presently another and similar luminous ball gleamed into shape at the
mast-head, swaying and wavering about the end of the spar like its
companion.  They were _corposants_, and whilst they conveyed to the
skipper the only additional warning needed of the impending elemental
strife, they also at once explained the mystery of the lights to leeward
for which he was steering.  They also were undoubtedly corposants
glimmering from the spars of the strange sail of which he was in
pursuit, and which, from her present proximity, must have been steering
to the eastward, and consequently toward him, instead of to the westward
and away from him, as he had feared.

Blyth believed she certainly could not be more than a mile distant, his
conviction being that the feeble, sickly lights of the ghostly
corposants could not penetrate further than that distance in so thick an
atmosphere, and it now became of the utmost importance--nay, it might
even be a matter of life or death for him--to reach the stranger before
the hurricane should burst upon them.  He looked over the side to
ascertain the speed of the raft through the water, and his heart quailed
as he observed that, save for an occasional tiny phosphorescent spark on
the surface or a faintly luminous halo lower down in the black depths
slowly drifting by, there was nothing to indicate that she had any
motion whatever.  Her speed was not more than half a knot per hour; and
the stranger was probably a mile distant--two hours away at the raft's
then rate of progress!  Something must be done, and quickly, too; for
out of the darkness round about him there now floated weird, whispering
sighs, faint, dismal moanings, and now and then a sudden momentary rush
as of invisible wings, telling that the storm-fiend was marshalling his
forces and about to make his swoop.  What was to be done?  There were
only two oars on board the raft--the steering-oars--and they were so
firmly secured that it would be next to impossible to cast them adrift
and use them as means of propulsion, even if one man's strength were
sufficient to handle them both simultaneously.  Moreover, if a little
puff of wind should come, as is sometimes the case, before the great
burst of the hurricane, they would, one or both, be wanted where they
were.  Perhaps hailing might be of use.  At all events, he would try.
And, placing his hollowed hands on each side of his mouth to form a
speaking trumpet the skipper drew a deep inspiration or two, hailed with
the utmost strength of his lungs; "Ship ahoy-oy!"

And then listened.

No response.  Nothing save the faint murmurings and railings of the
gathering gale.

"_Ship ahoy-oy_!"

Hark! what was that?  Did he, indeed, hear a faint answering halloo from
away yonder in the direction of those weird lights, or was it merely
that the wish was father to the thought?

"Sh-i-ip A--hoy-oy-oy!"

"_Halloo_!"

Quite unmistakable this time; and the skipper, in a perfect frenzy of
excitement, repeats his hail time after time, waiting only long enough
to receive the answer before hailing again.  Presently a bright star
suddenly appears under the faintly gleaming corposants.  It is a ship's
lantern held up over the rail.  A minute later a tiny spark appears
close to the lantern, immediately bursting into a keen bluish glare from
which a cloud of white smoke arises and flakes of blue-white flame drop
now and then as a port-fire is burnt.  By its brilliant though ghostly
radiance the skipper can see, less than half a mile distant, a brig
under nothing but close-reefed main-topsail and fore-topmast staysail--
evidently fully prepared for the worst that can come to her in the shape
of weather--with a little group of figures gathered about the port-fire,
and a smaller group, consisting of two men only, abaft the main-rigging,
all peering eagerly in his direction.

He sees one of the figures raise his arms; and presently there comes
floating across the inky water:

"Halloo, there!  Who hails?"

The skipper again raises his hands to his mouth, draws a mighty
inspiration, and replies, as the readiest means of bringing succour to
him:

"Shipwrecked m-a-an.  Broad--on--your--port--b-ea-eam!"

The figure who had hailed waves his hand to show that he has heard; and
just at that moment the port-fire burns out.  Another is quickly
ignited, however; and as the blue-white glare once more illumines the
brig Blyth sees that there is but one man now on the forecastle--the man
who holds aloft the port-fire--and that the rest are gathered aft, busy
about the davit-tackles by which a boat is suspended on the larboard
quarter.

At this moment the whole firmament from zenith to horizon is rent
asunder, and for a single instant the entire universe seems to have been
set on fire by the fierce blaze of the lightning which flashes from the
rent, whilst the accompanying thunder crash is so deafening that even
the skipper, seasoned as he is, quails beneath the shock of it.  For a
single instant the sea and everything upon it, from horizon to horizon,
is illumined by a light brighter than that of day; and in that single
instant Blyth sees not only the brig, enveloped in a perfect network of
fire, but also the huge piles of cloud overhead, twisted and distorted
into a hundred fantastic shapes by the forces at work within them, and
the black glistening water, carved into countless hollows and ridges by
the agitation of its surface; the whole apparently motionless as if
modelled in metal.  Then comes the blackness of darkness, so thick and
impenetrable that the half-stunned skipper, scarcely conscious of where
he is, dares not move by so much as a single footstep lest he should
step overboard.  The next moment down comes the rain, not in drops, not
even in sheets of water, but in a perfectly overwhelming deluge of such
density and volume that Blyth, bowing to his knees beneath it, gasps and
chokes like a drowning man.

But he speedily recovers his senses--he had need to, for he will soon
want them all--and, staggering to his feet, makes toward the mast, which
with the yard and dripping sail is now distinctly outlined against the
milky background of sea, milky by reason of the phosphorescence of its
surface being lashed into luminosity by the pouring rain.  He grasps the
halliard of the sail, and with feverish haste proceeds to cast it adrift
from its belaying-pin, murmuring the while:

"Now God be merciful to me, a sinner: for I am too late.  The time for
rescue is past!"

With utmost haste, yet with all the coolness and skill of a finished
seaman, he lowers the sail on deck and proceeds to secure it as well as
he can, for he knows only too well what the next act in the drama will
be; he knows, too, that those on board the brig--invisible now--are as
well versed as himself, and are at this moment far too busily engaged in
preparing for the stroke of the hurricane to have a thought to spare for
him.

Now the rain stops as suddenly as it began, and an awful silence ensues,
scarcely broken even by the lap of the water alongside, for the terrific
downpour has completely beaten down the swell, and, save for an
occasional gentle heave, the raft lies motionless.

Now stand by!  Summon all your nerve and all your courage to your aid,
skipper, for you never stood half so sorely in need of them as you do
now.  And, above all, lift up your heart to God in fervent prayer, be it
ever so brief.  Call upon Him whilst you have time; for time, so far as
you are concerned, may soon be merged in eternity!

Listen!  What is that low murmur in the air which so rapidly increases
in volume until it becomes a deep, hoarse, bellowing roar?  The sound is
broad on your starboard beam, skipper!  Aft to your steering-oar for
your life, man; sweep her head round quick, in readiness to run before
it!  That is well; round with her; again; another stroke.  _Now_ stand
by! here it comes!  Seize that rope's-end and hold on for your life!

A long line of milk-white foam appears upon the horizon, spreading and
advancing with awful rapidity; the roar swells in volume until it
becomes absolutely deafening; the air grows thick with vapour; a sudden
whirl of wind rushes past lashing the skipper's face with rain-drops as
it goes--rain-drops? no; they are salt, salt as the brine alongside--and
then, with a wild burst and babel of hideous sound and a shock as though
the raft had collided with something solid, the hurricane strikes her.
The white water surges up over her stern, and the skipper is hurled
forward, face downward and half-stunned, upon her already submerged
deck.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE MALAYS!

The occupants of the fort retired to rest that night, as usual, at the
early hour of ten o'clock; and, thoroughly fagged out with the day's
labour, soon sank to sleep.  Nobody felt in the least degree anxious
about the skipper, because, when Gaunt and Henderson took a last look at
the weather before turning in, there was nothing particularly alarming
in its aspect; they agreed that there was going to be a change, and that
it would probably occur before morning; but Blyth, they considered, was
not the man to be caught napping; moreover, he had already been absent
long enough to make his return possible at any moment; so, with this
opinion expressed and understood, all hands sought their bunks with
perfectly easy minds.

Manners and Nicholls were the first to awake, which they did
simultaneously when the hurricane burst over the island, their sleeping-
room happening to be on the weather side of the fort, or that upon which
the gale beat with the greatest fury, and they were therefore naturally
the first to be disturbed by the uproar of the storm.

"Whew!" whistled Manners, as he settled himself more comfortably in his
cosy bunk; "it's blowing heavily!  I'm glad I have no watch to keep to-
night.  Listen to that!" as the wind went howling and careering past the
house, causing it to tremble to its foundations; "if it's like that down
here in this sheltered valley what must it be outside in the open sea?"

"Bad enough, Mr Manners, you may depend on't," answered Nicholls, who,
occupying the adjoining bunk, had overheard this muttered soliloquy,
"bad enough!  This is the worst bout we've had since we've been on the
island.  Why--listen to that, now!--and did ye feel the house shake,
sir?  Why, it must be blowing a regular tornado--or typhoon, as they
calls 'em in these latitudes.  The skipper sleeps pretty sound through
it, don't he, sir?"

"He does, indeed," replied Manners; and then, a sudden recollection of
the fishing expedition coming upon him, he added, "I suppose he _is_
asleep--I suppose he is in his berth.  Did you hear him come in?"

"Not I, sir," was the answer.  "I dozed off to sleep almost before I had
time to make myself comfortable, and I never woke again until a minute
or two since when the roar of the gale disturbed me."

"Are you awake, Captain Blyth?" demanded Manners sharply.

No answer, and both men listen as well as they can through the awful
roar and shriek of the gale, hoping to hear the measured breathing of
the sleeper.  But no such sound is heard; and after listening
breathlessly for a few seconds Manners bounds out of his berth, and
fumbling about for the matches, finds them at last and strikes a light.
The skipper's berth is empty and undisturbed; it has evidently not been
slept in that night.

Manners and Nicholls--the latter having also turned out--look blankly at
the bunk and then at each other, the same dreadful suspicion dawning
upon them both at the same instant.

"Good heavens!" gasped Manners.  "It cannot be that--and yet it looks
like it--is it possible, Tom, that the skipper has not returned--that he
is at sea on the raft in this awful gale?"

"I'm blest if it don't look uncommon like it, sir," is Nicholls' reply,
uttered in a tone of desperate conviction.  "Tell ye what 'tis, sir," he
continued, as he hastily proceeds to don a garment or two, slipping his
bare feet into his shoes as he does so, "I'm off down to the creek to
see if the punt is there.  If she ain't, you may depend on't she's
ridin' at the raft's moorin's--if she ain't swamped--and that the raft's
at sea, with the poor skipper aboard of her.  The Lord have mercy on him
if it is so, that's all I says."

"Stop a moment; I will go with you," says Manners, also hastily
dressing; "but before we go we had perhaps better inquire of Mr Gaunt
or the doctor whether they know anything about him; they are certain to
be awake."

A minute later the two men are groping their way along the wall of the
court-yard toward the door of Gaunt's room, in which they can perceive a
light.  Manners knocks, and instantly receives the response:

"Yes.  Who is there?"

"Manners and Nicholls, sir.  Do you know anything about the captain, Mr
Gaunt?  He is not with us, and his bunk has not been slept in to-night."

"Stay where you are, I will be out in a moment," is the reply.  And
almost in the short space of time named Gaunt emerges.

"Now, then," he demands, somewhat sternly, "what is it you say about the
captain?  Surely I cannot have heard you aright?"

"Indeed I am afraid, sir, you did," answers Manners, by this time in a
state of deep distress as the conviction forces itself upon him that the
skipper really is missing.

"I said, sir, that the captain is not with us, and that his bunk has not
been slept in to-night."

"Then God help him, for I fear he is beyond all human aid!" ejaculates
the engineer hoarsely.  "Have you been down to the creek yet?" he
continues.

"No, sir," says Manners; "we were about to go down there, but I thought
it best to speak to you first."

"Quite right," assents Gaunt; "I will go with you."

The engineer re-enters his room, hastily explains the situation to Mrs
Gaunt, and then, returning, leads the way up the staircase to the roof;
that, it will be remembered, being the only mode of exit from the
building.

It is not until the trio reach this comparatively exposed situation that
they at all realise the strength of the gale; but, once there, though
the building is surrounded on all sides by the high ground of the ravine
through which the river flows, the tempest seizes upon them and beats
and buffets them and dashes them hither and thither with such
irresistible power and fury that they are in absolute peril of their
lives whilst they remain there, and to avoid being actually hurled off
into space they are constrained to go down upon their hands and knees.
To add to their difficulties the darkness is so intense that they can
see absolutely nothing; they have to grope their way like blind men,
relying solely upon their remembrance of localities for guidance.  And,
search as they will, they cannot find the exterior ladder by which to
descend to the ground outside.  It has doubtless been blown away.  This
misfortune, however, is soon remedied by the substitution of a rope from
the store-room for the missing ladder, and with its assistance the three
men quickly reach the ground.

Arrived there, they find that their difficulties have only just begun,
for they are no sooner clear of the house than, what with the profound
darkness and the awful buffeting of the wind, they soon get confused and
lose their way.  At length, however, after more than an hour's aimless
wandering, they find themselves at the ship-yard, which is in quite
another direction, and once there, they are enabled, by keeping close
along the water's-edge, to reach the creek.

As each had by this time expected, the punt is not there; and now any
lingering hopes as to the skipper's safety which either of them may have
cherished disappears, and in his own mind each mutely gives the poor
fellow up as lost.  The punt being missing, there is no means of
crossing to the main, for the stream, swollen by the recent rain, is
rushing past at a speed swift enough to sweep away the strongest swimmer
that ever breasted wave, to say nothing of the fact that the gale--which
is opposed to the current--has churned and lashed the waters into a
sheet of blinding foam.  They can do nothing, therefore, except make an
ineffectual attempt to light a fire, in the hope that its blaze,
reflected in the sky, may serve as a beacon to their unfortunate friend
in the improbable event of his still being alive and within sight of the
island; but this attempt also is frustrated by the wind, which not only
renders it impossible for them to kindle a flame but also sweeps away
all their materials as fast as they are gathered.  There is nothing left
for them, then, but to wend their way back homewards as best they can
and await the dawn of day.

The dawn that morning was long in coming, and when at length the grey
murky light slowly forced its way through the overhanging canopy of rent
and tattered cloud which obscured the heavens, wreck and destruction
everywhere became visible.  Fay Island, it is true, had escaped almost
unscathed, doubtless owing to its sheltered situation; but on the main--
as the party had got into the way of designating the larger island--
thousands of trees were lying prostrate, many of them uprooted, and the
rest snapped off close to the ground.

As soon as it was light enough to see anything, Gaunt, with Henderson
this time for a companion, once more made his way down to the creek, but
there was nothing to be seen from there.  Even the buoy attached to the
raft's moorings was invisible; but just where it ought to be there was a
strong ripple on the roughened surface of the water which seemed to
suggest that the buoy, and possibly the swamped punt as well, was still
there, but dragged under water by the strength of the current.

It continued to blow very heavily--though not with the same awfully
destructive violence which marked the first burst of the hurricane--all
that day and part of the ensuing night, when the gale broke, and by
sunrise the wind had dropped to a strong breeze.  Then once more did the
four men set out from the fort in the, by that time, almost hopeless
effort to obtain some clue to the fate of poor Captain Blyth.

Descending the outer ladder--which had been discovered on the previous
day at some distance from the fort--the search party first made for the
creek, from the shore of which--the stream having by this time subsided
and its current sunk to its normal speed--they descried not only the
buoy marking the moorings of the raft, but also, as they had quite
expected, the swamped punt hanging to it.  The latter was promptly
secured; Manners swimming out to it with the end of a line from the
shore, by means of which the craft was drawn in and grounded upon the
beach and baled out.  The oars having been washed out of her and swept
away, the next thing to be done was to work up a new pair; a task which
was soon accomplished, since they now had an abundant store of suitable
material close at hand in the ship-yard.  This done, the searchers made
their way down stream and crossed to the main, there separating into two
parties, one of which was to skirt the shore to the northward and
westward, whilst the other was to proceed in the opposite direction
until the two parties reunited; their object being not so much to look
out seaward--for they knew that if the raft had missed the island it
would by that time be far enough away--but rather to examine the shore
for any sign of wreckage or--the poor skipper's dead body.  Henderson
and Nicholls constituted one party, whilst Gaunt and Manners formed the
other.  They had not only a long, but also a most difficult journey
before them, the difficulty arising chiefly from the nature of the
ground they had to traverse; and it occupied them until well on in the
afternoon of the following day, both parties camping in the woods for
one night--and finding it anything but a pleasant experience; but
neither party found anything to throw the least light upon the fate
either of the raft or of the unfortunate man who had gone to sea in her;
and when at length they met they had at least the negative satisfaction
of being able to say that, after a thorough search of the entire
seaboard of the island, they had discovered no actual _proof_ that the
captain had lost his life.

Very fortunately for them no damage had been done either to the mill or
in the ship-yard; there was therefore no time lost in making good
deficiencies of that kind, and they were consequently enabled to resume
and carry on their shipwrights' work forthwith.  But not until a full
fortnight after the gale did they finally give up the skipper as lost,
young Manners being despatched every morning to the top of the mountain
with instructions to remain there all day and maintain a constant look-
out, the party still hoping, against their better reason, that after all
the raft _might_ have held together, and that Blyth _might_, in such a
case, strive to regain the island.  But at the expiration of that time
they felt that it was useless to hope further, and the watching was
discontinued.

Doctor Henderson was the hero of the next adventure which befell the
party; and a pretty state of consternation he managed to throw everybody
into for the time being, his poor wife and little Lucille especially.

It happened thus.  It had been the custom of the party ever since their
landing upon the island to observe Sunday as a day of rest, the prayers
of the Episcopal Church being read, with their proper lessons, both
morning and evening; whilst the rest of the day was devoted to such
much-needed recreation as they thought in their consciences might
legitimately be indulged in.  Manners and Nicholls, after the manner of
seamen, usually devoted a great deal of time on this particular day to
the requirements of the toilette and the patching up of their clothes;
whilst the two married men devoted themselves entirely to their
families, taking their wives and the youngsters for tolerably long walks
when the weather permitted.  Sometimes the two families took these
excursions in company, sometimes separately, according to their
inclinations at the moment; and, whether separately or together, Gaunt
usually carried his sketch-block and colours, whilst Henderson always
took his specimen box; the one being as enthusiastic an amateur artist
as the other was a botanist and chemist.  When the weather was
unfavourable for these walks Gaunt was in the habit of routing out some
interesting book from his large stock and reading from it aloud; whilst
Henderson, in the privacy of a little laboratory he had managed to fit
up, prosecuted his researches into the nature of the various plants and
herbs he had collected in former rambles.

They were all thus engaged on the afternoon of an atrociously wet
Sunday, about a month after the mysterious disappearance of poor Captain
Blyth, when the rest of the party were suddenly startled by a loud cry
for help from Henderson, the call being instantly repeated twice or
thrice in a much weaker tone of voice.

Tossing aside his book and springing to his feet Gaunt at once rushed
off to the laboratory, with all the others close at his heels, and there
they discovered the unfortunate doctor in a most extraordinary state of
mind and body, and at the same time became conscious of a faint fragrant
odour pervading the atmosphere of the room.  Pale as death, with all his
limbs hanging limp as if paralysed, the poor fellow was huddled up in a
chair upon which he had evidently hung himself when the seizure--or
whatever it was--first came upon him.  His eyes were rolling wildly, his
teeth chattered as though he were suffering from an ague fit, and his
moustache and beard _were_ flecked with foam.  But it was evident that
he still retained his reason, for the moment that he saw the little
crowd pouring into the room he cried out in a weak but piercing voice:

"Fly! fly for your lives, every one of you but Gaunt!  _Fly_!  I say;
stay not a moment.  My dear fellow," turning to Gaunt, "_drive_ them
out; _throw_ them out if they will not go otherwise!  And throw open
that window at once; this atmosphere is _deadly_, I tell you."

This statement had the desired effect; the room was cleared promptly,
everybody beating a somewhat precipitate retreat but the engineer and
Mrs Henderson, the latter quietly but firmly refusing to be removed,
upon the double plea that it was no more dangerous for her than for
Gaunt, and that, whether or no, her proper place was beside her husband.
As for Gaunt, he acted with his usual decision, first dashing the
window wide-open, and next stooping to raise his friend and convey him
into a presumably more healthy atmosphere; and if any additional motive
beyond solicitude for the sufferer were needed to impel him to this step
he had it, first in the awful pallor which suddenly overspread Mrs
Henderson's features, and secondly in a curious sickly feeling of
lassitude and languor which he felt stealing over himself.  But, to his
unspeakable surprise, no sooner did he approach Henderson than the
latter shrank away from him with a cry of fear, beseeching him in a weak
voice not to come near him.  Gaunt, however, by no means saw matters in
this light; if the atmosphere were deadly, or even deleterious, as his
own increasingly unpleasant sensations made him perfectly ready to
believe, then the sooner they three were out of it the better.  So,
disregarding the unfortunate doctor's protestations and entreaties, he
raised him in his arms and, notwithstanding the increasing sensation of
feebleness and numbness which oppressed him, staggered with his burden
into the outer air of the court-yard, closely followed of course by Mrs
Henderson.  But it was a most trying business altogether, for no sooner
did Gaunt lay hands upon the sufferer, though he did it ever so gently,
than the poor fellow rent the air with his screams, crying out between
whiles that Gaunt was crushing him to death and that he was stripping
the flesh off his bones.  It was a most extraordinary affair altogether,
for they could get no intelligible explanation from the patient even
after they had with infinite trouble and care--seemingly at the cost of
the acutest agony to Henderson--conveyed him to his own room and laid
him on his bed.  He could do nothing but shiver and moan and cower down
among the coverings, and entreat that nobody--not even his wife or
child--would go near him, or, least of all, touch him.  The little party
were almost beside themselves with anxiety and terror, which feelings
were increased when poor Mrs Henderson exhibited symptoms of a similar
character.  As for Gaunt, he was thoroughly alarmed; for not only did
the feeling of feebleness increase, but he also found himself gradually
becoming the victim of a blind unreasoning terror for which the term
"abject cowardice" afforded but a very inadequate description.  And to
this very unpleasant sensation was added that of a morbid sense of
touch, so acute that even the very pressure of his clothes became almost
unendurable.  Fully alive, however, to the possibly critical state of
affairs, he battled desperately against the influences at work upon him,
and, with infinite patience, at length succeeded in extorting from
Henderson a few suggestions toward the adoption of remedial measures,
which he put in force first for the benefit of the doctor, next for Mrs
Henderson--who had also succumbed to a similar though much milder
attack--and lastly for himself.  Nothing that was done, however,
appeared to be of the slightest service, the symptoms continuing with
unmitigated severity for fully eight hours, after which they gradually
subsided.  Gaunt was quite himself again by noon next day; Mrs
Henderson recovered about eighteen hours later; but as for the doctor,
it was fully a week before he entirely shook off the effects of the
attack.  But in less than twenty-four hours from his first seizure he
had sufficiently recovered to give an explanation of the singular affair
to the following effect.  He had, it would seem, been investigating the
nature of a hitherto unknown plant growing in considerable abundance
upon the island, and had found it to possess several very remarkable
qualities, some at least of which he believed might be rendered of the
utmost value in medical practice.  Anxious to make his researches
thoroughly exhaustive he had, upon the day of the catastrophe, been
distilling the essence of the plant; and, his task completed, he was in
the act of bottling the extract for future examination when its
peculiarly pleasing fragrance caused him to take several deep
inhalations from the bottle.  He had hardly done so when he felt his
strength rapidly leaving him, and he had only time to deposit the phial,
open, upon his table and stagger to a chair when something very like a
fit of paralysis seized him.  He at once cried out for help; but by the
time that his cries had evoked a response his nerves had begun to give
way, and in a very few minutes he was enduring such an agony of fear of
everybody and everything as words utterly failed him to describe.  And
with this terrible fear came the equally terrible morbid sensitiveness
of touch, which he found himself equally unable to describe.  So
excruciating was it, he said, that even the sound of an approaching
footstep caused him more suffering than he had ever before experienced;
and as to the moving of him from the laboratory and again into his own
room--his silence and the convulsive shudder which shook him from head
to foot were far more expressive than words.  His first act when he was
sufficiently recovered to move about once more was to secure the phial
containing the liquid which had done all the mischief, and--with
Nicholls to manage the punt--go right out to sea, where, hastily
uncorking the bottle, he flung it as far from him to leeward as
possible, at the same moment ordering his companion to give way for home
again with all speed.  This was done whilst the terror of his attack was
still upon him; but it was not in the nature of a man of Henderson's
training to give way for long to so irrational a fear as that which
prompted this action, and in less than a month afterwards he had, with
the adoption of all proper precautions, secured another and far more
liberal supply of the singular essence, with a view to future
experiments and analysis.

Meanwhile, the work at the ship-yard was pushed forward with all
possible energy, and to such good purpose that in an incredibly short
time, all things considered, the timbers for the new boat were raised
into position and secured, the planking carried up to the gunwale, the
deck laid and caulked, the joiners' work advanced, and the spars put in
hand.  Everybody was in the highest possible spirits, for they saw the
end of their labours rapidly approaching; they were, moreover, not only
pleased but absolutely proud of their work, for, though of course only
amateurs, they had wrought so carefully and conscientiously that
everything was finished off not only as strongly but also as neatly as
if they had every one served an apprenticeship to the handicraft.  Then
the little vessel herself was a perfect beauty; graceful in shape,
notwithstanding her extreme breadth of beam; powerful, yet buoyant; and
with lines so cunningly moulded that, whilst it would doubtless require
a good strong breeze to show her off to the utmost advantage, Nicholls
and Manners--who might both be expected to know a good hull when they
saw it--confidently predicted that she would prove very nimble even in
light airs.  And so confident were they of her sea-going powers that
they averred, again and again, they would not be afraid to face in her
even such a hurricane as that which had robbed them of poor Captain
Blyth; indeed, they even went the length of volunteering to take her
home to England after she should have accomplished the primary mission
of her existence in conveying the party to a civilised port.  Matters
were in this satisfactory state, the work having reached such a stage of
advancement that the rigging of the _Petrel_--as they had decided to
name the little cutter--had already been begun, and some talk was being
indulged in of hopes that the launch might be accomplished within the
following week, when, on a bright Sunday afternoon, Gaunt left Fay
Island for the main, taking the two children with him, the object of the
little party being to gather a few of the strangely-shaped and
exceedingly beautiful shells to be found on the sea-beach, as mementoes
of their long sojourn on the island.  The ladies preferred to remain at
home, deciding that the day was far too hot for walking exercise; and
the doctor remained with them for company.  It was getting on toward
sunset--indeed, the sun had already disappeared behind the high ground
to the westward of the fort--and the doctor with his two fair companions
had ascended to the flat, rampart-like roof of the building to enjoy the
cool, refreshing breeze and watch for the return of the shell-gatherers,
when the sound of a musket-shot, quickly followed by some five or six
others, broke upon the air with startling effect, and immediately
afterwards the head of a lofty triangular sail glided into view from
behind some tall bushes which had hitherto concealed its approach.  That
a strange craft of some sort was in the river was the first idea which
presented itself to Henderson's mind; that Gaunt--who was unarmed--and
the children were but too probably at that moment crossing from the
main, and consequently in full view from the deck of the strange craft,
was the next; and that the firing must necessarily have proceeded from
the unlooked-for visitor and be an indication of hostility, possibly
directed against Gaunt and the youngsters, was the third--the three
ideas following each other with the rapidity of a lightning flash.  To
these succeeded a fourth--the Malays!  So long a time had elapsed since
poor Blyth had arrived with his alarming intelligence respecting the
propinquity of these rascals and his disquieting suggestions as to a
possible visit from them, that, though an anxious watch had been for
some time maintained, the uninterrupted absence of any alarming
indications had at length resulted in so complete a relaxation of
vigilance that even the very existence of these pests of the Eastern
seas had been forgotten.  What if the wretches were upon them now?  It
seemed only too probable.  As these thoughts darted through Henderson's
brain, and with them the frightful suggestion that those three--the
unarmed man and the two helpless children, one of them _his_--might at
that moment be beset by a cruel and bloodthirsty foe, a cold shudder
went through his frame, and, hurriedly speaking to his companions a few
words which he intended should be reassuring, but which his manner
rendered quite the reverse, he dashed down the inner stairway to the
court-yard, and seizing Gaunt's repeating rifle, which he knew to be
loaded, and directing Manners and Nicholls--who had rushed out of their
room at the sound of the firing--to arm themselves and follow him, he
rushed up to the roof again, and descending to the ground by the outer
ladder, hurried away off in the direction of the creek.  He had not
advanced in this direction much beyond a hundred yards, along the
pathway through the bush, when a child's screams--little Lucille's--
smote upon his distracted ear, and, darting forward in a very frenzy of
apprehension, as he sprang round a bend in the path the poor child, her
head uncovered and her long fair hair streaming behind her, her sweet
eyes wild with terror, and her little hands outstretched, rushed up to
him and with an inarticulate cry of joy sank exhausted and almost
lifeless at his feet.  Behind her, not a dozen yards distant, followed a
fierce-looking Malay, his parted lips revealing the white teeth clenched
in the eagerness of pursuit, his cruel black eyes gleaming with the
ferocious joy of anticipated success, and with a murderous-looking
creese with a long wavy blade uplifted in readiness to strike the moment
he should have brought the poor innocent little victim within reach of
his lean muscular arm.

To spring over the prostrate form of his darling child, thus placing
himself between her and her pursuer, whilst he raised his rifle to his
shoulder, was an act of such lightning-like rapidity with Henderson that
he and his foe were almost within striking distance before either could
check his career.  The next instant the crack of his rifle rang out
sharp and clear, and the Malay, with a convulsive bound, crashed face
downward at his feet dead, with the bullet through his brain.

Breathless with excitement and the exertion of his short run, his teeth
clenched, and the fierce eagerness for battle suddenly awakened to full
activity within him, the doctor stood waiting impatiently for the next
foe to present himself.  But none came; only Manners and Nicholls now
appeared upon the scene with their rifles in their hands, and eager
questions in their eyes and on their lips for an explanation of the
sudden and tragic turn of affairs.  To them in a few terse words
Henderson stated what had already taken place, adding an expression of
his apprehension that Gaunt and little Percy had fallen into the hands
of the enemy, and finally directing the two men to advance with caution
as far as possible with the view of ascertaining the whereabouts of the
missing ones, and of affording them help if help were indeed still
possible, and, when they had done all that they could, to the best of
their judgment, to return to the fort with intelligence.  Having thus
dismissed his companions, the doctor tenderly raised the now insensible
Lucille in his arms, and, pressing her to his breast with a sob of
inarticulate gratitude to God for her preservation, he wended his way
back to the fort with a heavy, grief-stricken heart, wondering meanwhile
how he could best meet the anxious inquiries which he knew would be made
by poor Mrs Gaunt.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

AN ANXIOUS NIGHT AT THE FORT.

As Henderson approached the fort he saw the two ladies watching for him;
and anxious not to unduly alarm them, he cried out--referring to
Lucille--as soon as he had approached within shouting distance:

"It is all right; she is not hurt, only frightened a little.  Get her
bed ready."

Upon hearing this, Mrs Gaunt, taking the notion into her head that her
husband and Percy were following at their leisure, hurried away to
prepare Lucille's bed for her, leaving Mrs Henderson to receive her
child.  This afforded the doctor an opportunity which, to speak the
truth, was most welcome to him.  He knew from experience the consummate
tact which women are wont to exercise in the breaking of bad news, and
he resolved forthwith to delegate to his wife the task to which he had
been looking forward with so much mental perturbation.  So, as soon as
he reached his wife's side, he said hastily:

"Look here, Rose dear, you need not be alarmed.  With the exception of
being frightened very nearly out of her wits, poor child, there is
nothing wrong with Lucille; she has swooned with terror, but I can soon
put her all right again.  The Malays, however, have landed on the
island; and I am dreadfully afraid they have got Gaunt and poor little
Percy, but we can know nothing for certain until the return of Manners
and Nicholls, who have gone forward to reconnoitre.  There is no time
now to enter into particulars--they can be told by and by; but poor Mrs
Gaunt is certain to inquire presently for her husband and child, so I
want you to go to her _now_--leave Lucille to me; take her to her own
room, and break to her as gently as possible what I have just told you,
laying stress at the same time upon the fact that we _know_ nothing
certainly as yet, and that matters may turn out much better than we
apprehend.  Look! there she is.  Now go to her and be as gentle with her
as you can."

Full of sympathy, Mrs Henderson at this hurried away upon her painful
errand; whilst her husband, as soon as the coast was clear, made his way
down to his own room with the unconscious Lucille.

Arrived there, he laid the child upon her bed, and then opened the
compact medicine chest which, on leaving England, he had happily taken
the precaution of adding to his personal outfit, and this done he
forthwith set about the task of restoration.

The task proved more difficult and of longer duration than he had
anticipated; and before success rewarded his efforts his wife rejoined
him, in tears.

"Well," he said nervously, and without desisting a moment from his
occupation, "how have you managed?"

"Oh, Duncan!" sobbed Mrs Henderson, "it was dreadful!  Poor dear Ida is
quite prostrated with grief and terror, though she did, and is still
doing, her best to bear up under the awful agony of suspense.  Fancy,
dearest, both husband and child--oh, it is horrible!  Can _nothing_ be
done to save them?"

"Nothing, just now, I fear," was the gloomy response.  "You see there
are but three fighting men of us now, and we do not know how many of the
enemy there are.  It is quite useless to attempt the devising of plans
until the other two return with intelligence; _then_, indeed, we will
see what can be done.  And it shall go hard but we will rescue them
somehow.  Where did you leave Mrs Gaunt?"

"In her own room on her knees, praying for her lost ones; it is all she
can do, poor soul.  Ah! the dear child is reviving at last, is she not,
dear?"

"Yes, yes," answered Henderson hurriedly.  "Now reach me that glass of
medicine from the table.  Thanks.  Here, Lucille, my dear, drink this,
little one, it will do you good."

A faint tinge of returning colour had at length appeared in the child's
pale cheeks and lips.  This had been succeeded by a-fluttering sigh or
two, and then her eyes had opened suddenly with a look of terror, which
had given place to one of joy and relief as she recognised her father
and mother bending over her.  Upon which Henderson had gently raised her
and promptly administered the draught which he had prepared.

Presently the little creature spoke.  "Oh, mamma," she exclaimed,
looking somewhat wildly about her, "is it morning; is it time to get up?
I have had such a dreadful dream--"

"There; never mind your dream, dear; forget all about it, and try to go
to sleep again," said Mrs Henderson soothingly; "it is not quite time
to get up yet."

"Yes; go to sleep again like a good girl," agreed Henderson; "but you
can tell us your dream first, dear, if you very much wish to do so.  You
forget," he added in an undertone to his wife; "she may be able to throw
a great deal of light upon the state of affairs, and afford us
information of the last importance.  What was your dream, darling?"

"Oh," began the child, "I dreamt that we--Mr Gaunt and Percy and I, you
know--had been to the beach gathering shells; and as we were coming back
in the boat a great ship suddenly came round the corner, full of ugly,
wicked men; and they fired guns at us, and one of them hit Mr Gaunt,
for I saw the blood running down his face.  And then they came after us
in a boat, and were quite near us when we reached the creek; and then
Mr Gaunt told Percy and me to run home as fast as ever we could; and he
took one of the boat's oars and got out and stood on the beach, and
looked as if he was going to fight the men.  So Percy took my hand, and
we ran--oh, ever so fast; and I looked round and saw Mr Gaunt fighting
all the men with the oar; and then we turned a corner, and I felt tired
and wanted to stop; but Percy wouldn't let me, and we kept on running,
and I began to cry.  And just as I wanted to stop again we heard
somebody running after us, and I thought it was Mr Gaunt, but it
wasn't; it was one of the ugly men out of the ship; and he had a long
knife in his hand.  So we ran faster, and then dear Percy fell down; but
I ran on, and the ugly man caught Percy, and--oh, mamma!"  Here the poor
little creature's eyes filled with tears, and the frightened look
returned to them.  "_Was_ it a dream, or did it really happen?"

"It really happened, dear," answered Henderson, who made a point of
never deceiving his child about anything; "it really happened; but never
mind; you are with us now, you know, and _quite_ safe, so lie down and
try to go to sleep.  And do not trouble about dear Percy; we will have
him and his papa both safe back with us by to-morrow morning, please
God.  What a horrible experience for the poor child--and what dreadful
news about those two!" he murmured to his wife as Lucille sank back and
closed her eyes again under the influence of the soothing draught he had
administered.  "Fancy that poor little fellow Percy in the hands of
those fiends.  Hark! is not that Manners' voice hailing outside?  Stay
here with Lucille and hold her hand, it will soothe her, and I will go
and lower the ladder."

With that Henderson hurried away, leaving his wife to watch by the
bedside of their child, with a heart brimful of pity and sympathy for
her bereaved friend, and of unspeakable gratitude to God for the safety
of her own loved ones.

Arrived at the head of the staircase, Henderson approached the parapet,
and, leaning over, peered down into the gathering darkness.

"Is that you, Manners?" he asked, seeing a couple of figures standing
close underneath him.

"Ay, ay, sir; here we are," answered Manners for himself and his
companion.  "Will you kindly lower the ladder, please, doctor?"

The ladder was lowered, and in another moment Nicholls made his
appearance above the parapet, closely followed by Manners, who
immediately hauled up the ladder after him.

"Well," questioned Henderson impatiently, seeing that neither of the men
evinced a disposition to speak; "well, what is the news?"

"The worst, sir; the very worst," answered Manners with unusual emotion.
"They've got both Mr Gaunt and little Percy; and, would you believe
it, sir? the devils have actually been ill-treating the poor little
fellow, just for the sake, seemingly, of tormenting his father."

Henderson groaned aloud in sheer bitterness of spirit at hearing this.

"It's awful, isn't it, sir?" continued Manners, grinding his teeth with
rage.  "Nicholls here wanted to open fire upon them, there and then, and
board in the smoke--dash in among them in the midst of the confusion,
you know, sir, and see if we couldn't cut the two of them adrift and
bring them off with us.  There's nothing would have suited me better,
for it made me fairly mad to see the brutes striking that poor little
innocent child, and he and his father lashed to the trunks of a couple
of trees; but it wouldn't do; it _wouldn't_ do, sir; there were too many
of them for us.  I counted twenty-seven of them, all told, after the
second party had come ashore from the proa; we couldn't have done any
good.  And, besides, there was you and the ladies to be thought of.  So,
after we had watched them for some time, I thought our best plan would
be to come back here and consult with you, especially as they seemed to
be getting ready to beat up our quarters.  But we're determined,
Nicholls and I, to have a slap at them some time to-night in some shape
or form; and the only question is, how it is best to be done?"

Henderson stretched out a hand to each of them, which was cordially
grasped, as he said, huskily:

"Thank you; thank you, my staunch and trusty friends, both; we _will_
have a slap at them, as you say.  But we must do nothing hastily or
without careful consideration; the issues involved are too many, the
stake too great for us to risk anything by over-rashness.  Let us each
think the matter over carefully.  And, meanwhile, as we shall need all
our strength, you, Nicholls, go down and bring us up here something to
eat and drink, as this may be our only chance to snatch a morsel of
refreshment.  And whilst he is doing that, perhaps you, Manners, will
kindly go down and bring up all the arms and ammunition you can find, so
that if the Malays come this way we may be prepared to give them a warm
reception.  I will keep watch here for the present."

In another minute Henderson was alone upon the parapet, with the deep
violet star-studded sky above him, and on every hand the black outline
of the high land and the dense growth of trees and bush which hemmed in
the fort.  Not a sound met his ear save the continuous _chirr_ of the
myriads of insects with which the island abounded, the distant wash and
gurgle of the river, and the mournful sighing of the night breeze
through the foliage; but the whereabouts of the Malay camp was faintly
indicated by an occasional gleam of ruddy light flashing upon the
branches and leaves of a lofty tree in the direction of the creek; and,
most gratifying sight of all, away to the eastward the sky was
brightening into silvery radiance, showing that the full moon would
shortly shed her friendly light upon the scene.

The two men soon returned from below in the performance of their several
tasks, Manners having had the forethought to load the firearms by the
light of a lantern whilst still in the armoury.

A few minutes later the moon rolled slowly into view from above the low-
lying land beyond the Malay encampment, flooding the whole scene with
her soft subdued light; and Manners then cautiously went from loophole
to loophole looking for signs of the enemy, but without detecting any
indication of their presence.  Though neither of them had the slightest
appetite for food, the three men now proceeded to force a little
refreshment down their throats, knowing full well that ere long they
would have need of all their strength; and, whilst they ate, the
conversation naturally turned upon the two hapless prisoners, and the
best means for effecting their rescue.  Henderson, indeed, had been able
to think of little, else since the moment when his child had recovered
sufficiently to relate her terrible experience; and whilst turning the
matter over in his mind a hopeful thought had suggested itself.  What,
he asked himself, could have been the motive of the Malays in making
prisoners of those two?  Was it not likely that their object was
plunder, and the extortion of a ransom?  And, if so, he was resolved
that _anything_ in reason which might be demanded--anything, in short,
which should leave the party with the means of defending themselves and
providing for their ultimate safety--should be granted.  Let the
wretches but be persuaded to give up their prisoners unharmed, and to
leave the island, and he would not haggle about the price to be paid.

The trio were anxiously discussing together this hopeful view of the
matter when the watchful Manners, who had stationed himself at a
loophole for the purpose of maintaining a ceaseless look-out, suddenly
raised his hand warningly, and then pointed in the direction of the
pathway to the creek.  Springing to their feet, his companions at once
stationed themselves in positions which gave them a view of the spot
indicated; and, looking intently, they presently detected in the deepest
shadow of the bush two or three other shadows, which they speedily
identified as human figures, the more readily from the fact that a stray
moonbeam occasionally fell upon and glinted from their naked weapons.
The two or three were quickly joined by others, who emerged silently
from the pathway through the bush until the watchers were able to count
a dozen in all.

"Now, sir, what do you say?  Shall we open fire upon them, you and I,
with Mr Gaunt's repeaters, and Nicholls with his rifle?  We could bowl
over at least half of them before they could get away," eagerly
whispered Manners in Henderson's ear.

"No, no; not for the world," was the answer.  "Let us watch them and see
if we can get an inkling of what their intentions may be.  They at least
cannot get at _us_ here; and any precipitate action on our part may only
make matters worse for poor Gaunt.  Our policy is to keep them in the
dark as long as possible as to the number of their opponents."

The Malays having gained--unperceived, they doubtless hoped--the cover
afforded by the deep shadow of a dense clump of bush, some two hundred
yards distant from the fort, were now clustered closely together
therein, apparently engaged upon a careful inspection of the curious
building before them, and probably comparing notes thereon.  They
evidently seemed quite unable to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion
with respect to it; and the fact that everything was perfectly dark,
silent, and motionless about the fort--all the shutters in the exterior
walls having been carefully closed--seemed to excite misgiving rather
than confidence in their breasts, for a figure would now and then detach
itself from the rest and, on hands and knees, advance cautiously a
little way through the long grass into the open, as though to gain a
nearer view of the building, and then somewhat precipitately retire
again, as though the courage of the adventurer were not equal to the
task which he had undertaken.  At length these tactics ceased, and the
party, seeming to have finally made up their minds to be at least doing
something, began, still clinging tenaciously to the deepest shadow, to
move quietly along in a direction which would eventually lead to their
discovery of the ship-yard.

"That will not do," whispered Henderson to his companions as soon as he
observed this.  "They must not be allowed to reach the ship-yard, or
they will doubtless set fire to the cutter and everything else there.  I
was in hopes they would make up their minds to attack the building, when
the advantage would be all on our side, enabling us to greatly reduce
their numbers without risk of loss to ourselves; but apparently they do
not like the look of the place.  Now, you see that broad strip of
moonlit sward over there which they are approaching.  The first man who
attempts to cross I will fire at; you, Manners, taking the second, I the
third, and so on, you and I firing alternately so that we may take the
better aim, and Nicholls reserving his fire in case of a rush.  Should
such take place, we must all fire as rapidly as possible with the object
of checking it.  But remember this, both of you, we must each make
absolutely certain of his man before pulling trigger.  Not a single
bullet must be wasted, because in this case it will give us an immense
advantage if we can impress the enemy with a conviction of the deadly
character of our fire.  Now, make ready, and recollect I fire first."

As the doctor spoke he carefully levelled his repeating rifle through a
loophole and brought the sights in line with the trunk of a young
sapling which stood full in the moonlight, and in front of which the
stealthily advancing figures would have to pass.  His heart throbbed so
loudly that he could count its pulsations--one, two, three, four.  The
first figure is on the verge of the moonlight; he pauses a moment, looks
anxiously at the fort, and then starts at a run to cross to the next
patch of friendly shadow.  Poor wretch! he little knows how true an eye
is watching behind the sights of a rifle, waiting for him to come in
line with that sapling.  Another stride will bring him in line with
it--_crack_! a flash of fire, a little puff of white smoke, and he
flings up his arms as he falls heavily forward into the grass.  A second
figure has already emerged into the bright moonlight, following the
first; it pauses at the flash and the report, as if about to turn back.
Too late!  A second flash, a second report, and he, too, falls forward
on his face.  A third now springs out of the shadow and stoops forward
as if to drag the fallen man back into shelter; but before he can reach
him he, too, falls before Henderson's deadly rifle.  That stops the
advance most effectually, the remaining figures huddling close together
where they stand.  A most fatal mode of grouping themselves this, for
the doctor, whose blood is now fully up, gives the word to fire into
them as they stand; and instantly out flashes the fire of three rifles
from as many loopholes, followed by such a commotion over there among
the shadows as seems to indicate that the fire has not been in vain.
Two more shots, one each from Henderson and Manners, complete the
enemy's discomfiture, and a hasty retreat is commenced.

"Follow them up, now; fire away!" exclaims Henderson eagerly; "but take
careful aim.  Now is our opportunity to teach them a wholesome lesson!"

And follow them up they did, with such deadly persistency that four only
out of the twelve succeeded in making good their retreat and regaining
the path leading to the cove.

"Splendid! admirable!" exclaimed the doctor with exultation, as he
hastened with a parting shot the disappearance of the last figure.  "We
shall neither see nor hear anything more of those fellows to-night.  And
now, let us once more see if we cannot hit upon some scheme for the
deliverance of those two, our valued friend Gaunt and his little son."

He was mistaken, however, in supposing that he had seen the last of the
Malays for that night; for about two hours later, whilst they were still
anxiously discussing the one question which, above all others, absorbed
their thoughts, and were seemingly just as far as ever from any
practicable solution of it, a gleam of ruddy light suddenly appeared in
the pathway leading from the creek, and a minute later two Malays
stepped boldly into the open, one of them holding aloft a lighted torch
in one hand and a palm branch in the other, whilst the second man
displayed what looked like a sheet of paper.

"A flag of truce craving a parley!" exclaimed Henderson, as he
critically examined the two men through a loophole.  "Let them approach;
we will hear what they have to say--that is, if they can make themselves
intelligible."

The Malays advanced boldly enough across the open toward the fort,
evidently quite satisfied that the palm branch afforded them full and
absolute protection, and at length came to a halt beneath the walls.

"Well, what do you want?" demanded the doctor of them in English, as he
leaned over the parapet.

The one who bore the paper seemed quite to comprehend the purport of the
question, for he said something unintelligible in reply, made a motion
of writing upon the paper, and then held it aloft toward Henderson.

"Um! a letter," muttered the doctor; "possibly from Gaunt.  Have you any
string, either of you?" turning to his companions.

Nicholls happened to have a small ball of spun-yarn in his pocket, and
this being produced, was unwound and the end lowered down to the letter-
bearer, who gravely attached the letter, or whatever it was, to it, made
an oriental obeisance, and promptly retired, followed by his companion.

"Now, Nicholls," said Henderson, as he hauled up and secured the
document, "you mount guard here, keep a sharp look-out, and give the
alarm the moment you note anything suspicious.  Mr Manners and I are
going below to see what news this letter contains."

That the letter was not from Gaunt was evident the moment it was opened,
for it consisted of nothing more than a series of roughly but vigorously
executed drawings.

The first sketch, or that which occupied the top of the sheet, consisted
of a straight horizontal stroke with markings underneath it, which were
evidently intended to represent waves; and on the centre of the
horizontal line stood a semicircle with straight lines radiating from
it, with a bold single upright stroke to the left of it.  Though roughly
executed, there was no doubt this was intended to represent either the
rising or the setting sun, probably the former, the upright stroke being
perhaps intended to indicate the first sunrise, or that of the next
morning; at all events, so Henderson interpreted it.

The second sketch rudely but unmistakably represented the fort, with the
exception that, in order to make his meaning perfectly clear, the artist
had been obliged to add a door.  Out of this door several white men were
walking, with guns in their hands, which the leading figures were either
delivering up, or had already delivered up, to a body of Malays.  A
second group of whites and Malays were shown to the right of the sketch,
the Malays being represented as handing over to the unarmed whites two
prisoners with ropes round their necks and their hands tied behind them.
One of the prisoners was an adult, whilst the other was much smaller;
and there could be no doubt whatever that they were intended to indicate
Gaunt and Percy.

The, third and last sketch was also a representation of the fort, but in
this case it was drawn without a door.  Looking over the parapet were a
number of white men with guns in their hands, which they were pointing
at a party of Malays on the ground below, who in turn were pointing guns
at the whites; whilst to the right of this picture was drawn another
group, a most sinister one, for it represented Gaunt and Percy bound to
two trees and surrounded by a pile of--presumably--branches, to which
other Malays were in the act of applying _a blazing torch_!

Henderson and Manners studied this document most attentively for some
time, and they at length agreed that only one meaning could possibly be
intended to be conveyed by it--namely, that if the fort and all it
contained, including weapons, were surrendered by sunrise, or sunset--
but most probably the former--next day, Gaunt and Percy should be
delivered up by their captors; but if not, then the fort would be
attacked, and the two captives _burnt alive_!

"Why, this is horrible!" exclaimed Henderson, as he finally folded up
the document and carefully placed it in his pocket.  "We cannot possibly
make the unconditional surrender which they demand, it would simply be
placing the entire party, Gaunt and his child included, at the mercy of
a pack of treacherous, bloodthirsty scoundrels, who would probably
slaughter us all in cold blood as soon as we had delivered up our
weapons.  On the other hand, it is equally out of the question that we
should abandon those two poor souls to the frightful fate with which
they are threatened.  What is to be done, Manners?"

"Let us go up on the parapet and talk the matter over with Nicholls,
sir," was the reply.  "He is a quiet, inoffensive fellow, but thoroughly
to be depended upon in a fight, and he is pretty long-headed too,
perhaps he may be able to help us out with a suggestion.  At all events,
sir, you may depend upon it neither Mr Gaunt nor little Percy--poor
little chap!--shall be burnt, alive or dead, whilst I can strike a blow
to prevent it."

"Come, then," said Henderson, "let us go and hear what Nicholls has to
say upon the matter."  And he led the way up to the parapet once more.

But Nicholls, honest man that he was, seemed completely to lose in
horror the long-headedness with which Manners had credited him, as soon
as he was made acquainted with the terms of the singular document handed
in by the Malays, and beyond the utterance of several very hearty
maledictions upon the heads of those scoundrels, and the reiterated
declaration that they should kill him before they harmed a hair of the
heads of either of the prisoners, he had nothing to say.

Henderson was reduced to a condition of absolute despair, for neither of
the trio could think of any plan of rescue promising even the remotest
prospect of success.

"Leave me, both of you," he at length exclaimed in desperation--"leave
me to watch and to think out this matter alone; lie down and rest if you
can for an hour or two, husband your strength as much as possible, for
we shall have need of it all before sunrise"--he shuddered involuntarily
as he uttered the last word--"and fear not, I will call you in good
time."

The two men turned, and without a word retired below to their room,
leaving the doctor to wrestle alone with the difficult question of what
was his actual duty in this terrible strait.

Reader, do not mistake this man's character.  No braver or more gallant
Englishman--no nobler or stauncher friend--ever lived than he.  Had he
been an unmarried man, or had those two women and that helpless child,
his daughter, been in a place of safety, he would have unhesitatingly
accepted the hints which Manners and Nicholls had so repeatedly thrown
out, and placing himself at their head, would have marched with a light
heart against the Malays, and either have rescued the captives or have
perished with them.  But the odds against him and his companions were so
great--a little over seven to one even now, after the losses already
sustained by the enemy--that he felt he _dared_ not indulge in any hope
of success, especially as those odds would be so greatly increased by
even _one_ casualty on his side; and if failure ensued, what would be
the result to them all, including the women and the child still safe in
the shelter of the fort?  It would not bear thinking about.

"God help me!" he cried in his despair.  "_What_ shall I do?"

"Ay, and why should not God help him?" was the thought which followed
close upon the heels of his exclamation.  And feeling that he had
already too long neglected to seek the only counsel upon which he could
safely rely, this simple-hearted, noble-minded gentleman went down upon
his knees there and then, and laying the whole case before his Creator,
humbly, yet fervently, sought for guidance and aid, for Christ's sake.

When he rose from his knees it was with a feeling of almost ecstatic
relief, for--be it said with all reverence--he had cast his burden upon
the Lord.  He had sought for guidance and help; the one had been given
him--for he had formed his resolution what to do; and the other he
doubted not would be accorded to him in his time of need; there remained
therefore nothing for him to do but to make his arrangements and then to
carry them out.

He looked at his watch.  Two o'clock, just four hours to sunrise; he had
not much time to spare, for when the sun next rose.  Gaunt and his child
must be once more safe within the walls of the fort, or--well, that must
not be thought of.

So taking one more keen glance around, to make quite sure that all was
safe, Henderson went softly down the staircase leading to the court-
yard, and quietly directed Manners and Nicholls to rejoin him at once
upon the parapet.  This done, he entered his own room.  A lamp, turned
low, was burning upon the table, and by its light he was just able to
see that his little Lucille was sleeping calmly where he had laid her;
but his wife was absent, he needed not to be told where she was.  He
stood for a moment looking with unspeakable fondness upon the sleeping
child, and then bending softly over her, he pressed one long lingering
kiss upon her forehead.  As he did so she smiled in her sleep, her
rosebud lips quivered a moment, and then he heard her whisper, "Dear
Percy!"  It was enough; had he felt the least lingering hesitation about
the carrying out of his plan, that unconscious appeal made by his
sleeping child would have effectually banished it, and dashing away the
tears that rose to his eyes, the doctor quietly withdrew.  There was a
light burning in Mrs Gaunt's room; and as he passed the door on tiptoe
and stealthily, as though he had been engaged upon some unlawful errand,
he caught the low murmur of his wife's voice, and a stifled sob.  That
was another appeal not to be resisted; and without venturing to disturb
the two mourning watchers--though he never before yearned so hungrily
for a parting word with his wife, or a sight of her sweet face--he
passed noiselessly on, and so regained the parapet, where Manners and
Nicholls already awaited him.  To them he fully unfolded his plan,
minutely explaining not only his own but also their part in it; after
which he gave them his final instructions, and then taking _both_ of
Gaunt's magazine rifles in his hand, and thrusting a brace of revolvers
into his belt--having previously loaded each weapon most carefully with
his own hands--he quietly lowered the outer ladder, cautioning his
companions to draw it up again after him, and stepped briskly but
noiselessly out through the long dew-laden grass in the direction of the
ship-yard.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

DOOMED TO DIE.

The story told by little Lucille relative to the first appearance of the
Malays was so graphic and accurate up to the point of Gaunt's capture,
that little or no addition is needed to complete it.  The shell-
gatherers had been most successful in their quest, and returning to Fay
Island laden with their delicate and beautiful spoils, were about half-
way across the stream--which, it will be remembered, was of considerable
width at the point where they would have to cross--when the proa
suddenly hove in sight round a bend of the channel.  There was only one
possible explanation of the reason why Gaunt had not seen her in ample
time to avoid capture, and that was that whilst he had been busy with
the children on the eastern beach, the proa must have been approaching
from the westward, which would cause her to be hidden from view by the
intervening high land.  By what means, however, her crew had discovered
the entrance to the harbour must remain a mystery; probably it was the
result of pure accident, for--as has already been mentioned--it was so
artfully concealed that even Gaunt himself, when voyaging to and fro in
the raft during the earlier period of his sojourn upon the island, had
upon more than one occasion been puzzled to find it.

Be this as it may, the moment of the proa's arrival in the river was a
most unfortunate one for the occupants of the punt, who were seen and
chased by the Malays the moment that their vessel rounded the point.
Gaunt at once saw that escape for himself as well as for the children
was impossible; he was as near Fay Island as he was to the main, and in
whichever direction he headed he must inevitably be overtaken before he
could make good his retreat, and with his usual promptitude he at once
decided to continue his course for the islet, hoping to be able to make
a sufficiently long stand against the enemy to permit of the children
gaining the safe refuge of the fort.  He was hailed as soon as seen;
but, of course, the only notice he took of this was to urge the clumsy,
heavy punt with redoubled speed through the water.  Finding him so
contumacious, the Malays then fired upon him several times, and
succeeded in slightly wounding him in the head.  As the proa advanced
further up the stream, and drew closer and closer still in under the lee
of the high land, the wind grew light and shy with her, and then,
perhaps fearing that after all their prey might escape them, the crew
hastily launched a boat and gave chase in her.  But for that unlucky
wound in the head it is possible that Gaunt might have succeeded in his
plucky effort; but though the bullet inflicted but little actual damage
the blow stunned and dazed him, so that for a minute or two he scarcely
knew where he was or what he was doing.  Trifling as was the amount of
time thus lost it was sufficient to ruin what little chance he
originally had; for when the punt at length grounded with a shock on the
sandy beach of the creek the Malays were scarcely a dozen yards astern
of her, and Gaunt had only just time to lift the youngsters out on the
sand, to give the hasty injunction, "Run away home, children, as fast as
ever you can," and to seize an oar in self-defence, when the enemy--nine
of them--were upon him.  Of course, armed as he was with no better
weapon than a clumsy oar, he had no chance whatever against such
overwhelming odds, and though he managed to fell three of his
antagonists the fight had not lasted two minutes before his arms were
pinioned from behind, his feet tripped from under him, and himself made
a prisoner.  He was quickly rolled over on his face and his arms
securely lashed behind him, when, this being satisfactorily
accomplished, his captors raised him to his feet, and, conducting him to
a tree, firmly bound him to its trunk.  The idea then seemed to occur to
the Malays that possibly the children might not yet be beyond the reach
of capture, for two of them set off at a run in pursuit along the path
leading to the fort.  Gaunt guessed only too surely at the object of
this sudden and hurried departure, and his heart sank with dismal
apprehension as he thought of the distance those little feet would have
to traverse ere the refuge of the fort could be won, of their liability
to become fagged and to lag upon the way, and of the fleetness of foot
displayed by their cruel pursuers when starting upon their relentless
errand.  And when, from the prolonged absence of the pursuers,
apprehension was beginning to yield to a hope that the children were
safe, he was plunged into the bitterest distress by the reappearance of
one of the miscreants, roughly and cruelly dragging along by the arm his
darling and only son, Percy; the poor child crying bitterly with terror
and the ruffianly usage to which he was being subjected.  Upon seeing
his father the little fellow managed, by a sudden and unexpected effort,
to break away from his captor, and, running up to Gaunt, embraced him,
crying:

"Oh, father, make that cruel man leave me alone; he has been whipping me
and twisting my arm and hurting it so much that I can scarcely use it.
Oh, don't let him touch me again, father," as he saw the Malay
approaching him with a scowl of hideous malignity upon his already
sufficiently ugly features.

"My darling boy, I cannot help you," groaned Gaunt.  "Would to God that
I could! but you see they have bound me to this tree so that I cannot
move.  Listen, Percy dear; we can do nothing at present but submit to
these men, who have us in their power, so you must just let them do what
they will with you, my precious one; go with the man very quietly, and
then perhaps he will not ill-treat you any more."

"_Must_ I, father?" asked the little fellow tearfully, and looking at
his father in vague surprise at so seemingly heartless a command.

"Yes, dear boy; yes.  It is for your own good that I tell you to do
this," answered Gaunt brokenly, for he keenly felt the unspoken reproach
which he saw in the child's eyes as the little fellow forlornly turned
away and with a piteous sob quietly surrendered himself to the brute,
who now again with ruffianly violence seized upon his helpless victim.

"Oh, don't! you hurt me so," the poor little fellow suddenly screamed
out; and the father's heart swelled almost to bursting with impotent
fury as he saw the cruel clutch with which the wretch was digging his
long thin sinewy fingers into the tender flesh of the boy's shoulder as
he forced him toward an adjoining tree, to which he forthwith proceeded
to lash him, drawing the cord so tightly round the slender wrists that
the little fellow fairly screamed and writhed with the intolerable pain.

"Curse you!" yelled Gaunt, now fairly stung to madness and foaming at
the mouth with fury; "curse you, fiend that you are!"  And as he hurled
forth words of rage and defiance he tugged and strained with such
superhuman strength upon his bonds that the stout rope fairly cracked
whilst it cut into the flesh of his wrists down to the bone.  But the
lashing was too strong to yield to even his frenzied efforts, apart from
the fact that, with his arms lashed behind him, he had no opportunity to
exert his strength effectively, and at length, completely exhausted, he
was fain to desist, to the undisguised delight of a little knot of the
Malays who had gathered round and were keenly enjoying the scene.  So
much pleasure, indeed, did they derive from it that they said something
to little Percy's tormentor which was evidently an incitement of him to
continue his ill-treatment of the child, for the fellow, with an
acquiescent grin, had no sooner finished his task of lashing the little
fellow to the tree--a task which he performed with the utmost
deliberation and gusto--than he retired a pace or two, contemplating the
helplessness of his little victim with malignant satisfaction, and then,
with a glance toward Gaunt and a few laughing words to his companions,
he stepped forward and dealt the poor child a savage blow upon the mouth
with his clenched fist--so cruel a blow that it extorted another
piercing scream of pain and terror from the sufferer and caused his
quivering lips to stream with blood.  Gaunt said nothing this time, nor
did he renew his worse than useless efforts to burst his bonds, but he
directed toward the fellow a look of such deadly ferocity that the
wretch actually quailed under it, and seemed glad enough to slink away
into the background under cover of an order which another Malay,
apparently one of the officers of the proa, now stepped forward and gave
him.  Possibly the order given may have been to desist from further ill-
treatment of the child, for the new-comer next said something to the
group of onlookers which caused them also to retire, with many a
backward glance of animosity at Gaunt--which he returned with interest;
and, these dismissed, the officer, if such he was, looked at the sobbing
child's bonds and, with a muttered word or two, proceeded to loosen them
sufficiently to relieve the little fellow from the cruel suffering they
had caused him--a proceeding which won for him a look of unspeakable
gratitude from Gaunt which seemed to be not wholly unappreciated.

The loosening of his bonds afforded the poor child so much relief that
he now felt almost comfortable, comparatively speaking; and, exhausted
with the pain and terror he had already endured, he soon sank into a
kind of stupor, which, if it did not amount to actual insensibility,
approached it so nearly as to afford the poor little fellow at least a
temporary forgetfulness of his situation and surroundings.  Gaunt,
speaking quietly once or twice to him without obtaining a reply, at once
saw with intense satisfaction the state his child had fallen into; and
to such a state of despair had he now been brought that he would have
been positively happy could he have been assured that his darling boy
was dead and beyond the reach of further suffering.  For as he now had
leisure to reflect, the future, so far as they two were concerned, was
without a single ray of hope to brighten it.  He knew, of course, that
those staunch comrades of his at the fort would not abandon him and his
child to the mercy of the Malays without making some attempt at a
rescue; but there were only three of them, and what could three men,
however brave, do against such overwhelming odds unless acting upon the
defensive and behind stone walls?  _There_, indeed, but not in the open
field, he had some hopes for them, and there he fully expected they
would all very shortly have their hands full, for he momentarily
expected to see the whole body of the Malays--except, of course, a man
or two to guard himself and his boy--move off to the attack of the fort.
And if the attack failed, as he hoped and believed it would, the Malay
loss would doubtless be very heavy; and he had heard quite enough of
their vindictive nature to feel assured they would take their revenge
upon him and Percy.  Yes, the more he thought about it the more
convinced did he become that it was their doom to die.  "Well," he
murmured, "God's will be done!"  It was best, perhaps, that his child
should die now, young and innocent as he was; and as for himself, if he
could but be satisfied that the little fellow's death was quick and
easy, he cared not how soon he followed him.

But if this was to be the end of the matter so far as they two were
concerned, there was a task before him to which he must at once give his
best attention--the task of preparing his little son for the awful
ordeal before him.  To paint Death in colours so attractive as that they
should rob the grim king of his terrors and make him welcome, was, he
felt, a task of no ordinary difficulty; and coupled with this was the
fact that the poor child had been dreadfully terrified already.  How was
this task to be accomplished--how even begun?

As he cogitated painfully over this problem he saw a party of twelve
Malays detach themselves from the rest and move off in the direction of
the fort.  Then after a considerable interval came the sounds of firing,
followed some twenty minutes later by the return of four only out of the
twelve.  A sickening fear came over him at first that those in the fort
had succumbed to the attack, and that the eight absentees were remaining
behind in charge of the prisoners.  But a little reflection led him to
believe that, had such been the case, the prisoners would have been
brought in triumph to the Malay camp.  Could it be possible, then, he
asked himself, that the missing eight had fallen in the attack?  It
might be so.  The bearing of the four who had returned was anything but
triumphant; and then there was a great deal of excited talk and
gesticulation on their part, seemingly in the nature of an explanation,
and more excited talk among the others, followed, after a long and
stormy debate, by the preparation and despatch of the letter, the
delivery of which we witnessed in the preceding chapter.  This last act
of the Malays completely reassured Gaunt as to the safety of the fort
and its inmates, but it also confirmed him in his belief that his own
fate and that of his child was sealed.

The messenger soon returned, a few questions were put to them and
answered; a couple of sentries were posted with loaded muskets at the
entrance to the bush-path leading to the fort; a man was detailed to
keep watch upon the two prisoners; the watch-fire was bountifully
replenished with brushwood; and then the camp sank gradually into a
state of repose.

Then again the question arose in Gaunt's mind.  In what manner could he
best set about the task of preparing his child to meet death
unflinchingly?  Whilst he was painfully grappling with the problem Percy
himself afforded his father an opening of which the latter at once
gladly availed himself.  Stirring uneasily, and with a sobbing sigh
seeming to recover his recollection of where he was and what had
happened to him, the little fellow looked up and asked shudderingly:

"What will the Malays do to us, father?--will they kill us?"

"That is as God wills, dear boy," answered Gaunt with an affected
cheerfulness which he was very far from feeling.

"They may or they may not, I cannot tell.  But if they do you will not
be sorry to die with father, will you?"

"I--I--don't know," answered the little fellow, looking terrified.
"Will it hurt us?"

"Oh, no," answered Gaunt, "not at all--nothing, that is, worth thinking
or troubling about.  It will _very_ soon be over; and then--_then_, dear
boy, when we come to ourselves again, we shall find that, hand in hand,
you know, we are going up, and up, and up, higher and higher, toward
heaven.  And very soon we shall see the glorious light shining upon the
jewelled walls of the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem.  And as we draw
near we shall see the pearly gates unfold to admit us, and God's holy
angels coming to meet us, clad in their white robes.  And we shall hear
the first sweet sounds of the celestial music.  And as we enter in at
the gates we shall meet all those dear ones who have gone before us.
Dear grandpa, whom you never saw, my precious one, but about whom, you
know, I have told you so many pretty stories--he will be there to
welcome us; and--"

"Oh, that _will_ be nice!" exclaimed the child with kindling eyes.  He
meditated for a moment, and then, looking up, he asked eagerly: "When
are we going, father?"

"Oh, very soon now, dear," answered Gaunt, "_very_ soon--perhaps in two
or three hours' time.  We can wait patiently until then, can we not?"

"Yes," answered Percy in a perfectly contented tone of voice.  And the
father was inwardly congratulating himself upon the ease with which his
difficult task had been accomplished--though he of course felt that it
would be absolutely necessary to keep the child in that frame of mind by
constant conversation until the arrival of the supreme moment--when the
little fellow looked up and with sudden anxiety asked:

"And will mother be there too?"

How little the poor child knew what poignant anguish he inflicted upon
his father by asking this innocent and perfectly natural question!
Gaunt would have given worlds, had he possessed them, for the priceless
privilege of saying farewell to his idolised wife; but he knew it could
not be--it was impossible.  And the child had still to be thought of,
still to be cheered and encouraged and strengthened to meet death with a
smiling face--_nothing_ must be allowed to interfere with that; so,
choking back his anguish as best he could, the father answered:

"Well--no, dear boy; I scarcely think she will be there quite so early
as ourselves.  But she will not be long in following us.  When she finds
that we are gone she will be anxious to come, too; and she will not
delay for one unnecessary moment, you may depend upon it."

"Oh, father!" exclaimed the poor little fellow in sudden distress, "let
us not go without mother; it will be so lonely for her to be down here
all by herself.  Let us wait for her and all go together; it will be
ever so much nicer.  I don't want to go without her, father.  I would
rather not go without mother, if you please."  And the poor little
fellow began to cry piteously.

Here was a catastrophe!  The fabric of joyous anticipation which the
father had been painfully building up within his child's breast had
collapsed completely, and in a moment, when he found that they were
"going without mother!"  Gaunt argued and reasoned with the little
fellow for a full half-hour, taxing his ingenuity to its utmost extent
to recover the advantage he had lost, but it was all unavailing; to this
poor child it seemed that heaven itself could not be heaven "without
mother."  His father was fast giving way to despair when a brilliant
idea shot through the childish brain.

"Father," he exclaimed suddenly, looking up with renewed hope, "cannot
God make the Malays not kill us?"

"Certainly He can, if He chooses," was the ready answer.

"Then let us ask Him," was the triumphant rejoinder.  "I am quite sure
He will let us wait and go all together if we tell Him we would rather."

What could the father do but acquiesce in a request founded upon such
perfect trust in the love and mercy of the Almighty?  Indeed, it was no
sooner made than he wondered how it was that he had been so utterly
faithless as never to have thought of it himself.  So he forthwith
offered up, audibly, just such a petition as the child had suggested,
taking care to clothe it in language which the little fellow could fully
comprehend; and, though it must be admitted that the prayer was begun
more to satisfy the child than from any feeling or belief that it would
be answered, yet, as Gaunt proceeded, with all the earnestness of which
he was capable, hope revived in his heart, and his conscience began to
rebuke him for his practical infidelity.

The prayer concluded, Percy expressed himself as perfectly happy and
satisfied; but it distressed his father not a little to find that the
child's thoughts now persistently turned in a direction precisely
opposite to that in which he wished them to incline; over and over and
over again did Gaunt strive to rekindle the little fellow's enthusiasm
about heaven, but it would not do; life, not death, was what the child
was now looking forward to; and all his father's most earnest
exhortations failed to elicit from him anything beyond the question:

"When do you think they will come and set us free, father?"

"I do not know that they _will_ set us free, dear boy; it may not be
God's will," was the substance of Gaunt's reply to this oft-repeated
question; at which the little fellow would look at his father in
surprise and retort:

"But, father, you used to tell me that God is _always_ pleased to hear
and answer the prayers of little children!"

In short, the child at length got the better of the man in this curious
theological discussion, and Gaunt was finally obliged to give in.

"He is right," the father at length admitted to himself, "and I am
wrong.  After striving with all my might during the whole of his brief
little life to inculcate in him an absolute belief in the unalterable
truth of God's promises, why should I now allow the weakness of my own
faith to undermine his?  My child is in the hands of a merciful God;
there will I leave him."

And so, when, from time to time, after that, the little fellow repeated
his question of "When do you think they will come and set us free,
father?"  Gaunt would reply hopefully:

"Oh, very soon now, I should think, dear boy; very soon."

The long, weary, trying night was wearing to its close.  The moon hung
low in the western sky; the horizon to the eastward was paling from
violet-black to pearly-grey; and the stars in that quarter were
beginning to lose their lustre.  The air, which during the earlier hours
of the night had been oppressively sultry, now came cool and refreshing
to the fevered brows of the anxious watchers; the insects had subdued
their irritating din, as is their wont toward the dawn; the watch-fire
had smouldered down to a heap of grey, feathery, faintly-glowing ashes;
the two sentinels at the entrance of the bush-path had ceased their
alert pacing to and fro, and, having grounded their muskets, were now
drooping wearily upon them with their hands crossed over the top of the
barrels; whilst the Malay who had been detailed to watch the prisoners,
having some half a dozen times during the earlier hours of the night
tested their bonds and satisfied himself of their perfect security, was
now seated on the ground before his charges, with his ringers
interlocked across his knees and his head bowed forward, manifestly
napping.  The weariness of the long night had told upon both the
prisoners; their conversation had first languished and then ceased
altogether; but now the cool, fresh, sweet-smelling breeze had aroused
them both, Gaunt first, and the poor, tired-out, suffering child soon
afterwards; and whilst the first was looking abroad over the tree-tops
at the brightening sky to the eastward and thinking that _now_, surely,
their fate must be drawing very nigh, the little fellow by his side
stirred uneasily, roused himself, and once more put the stereotyped
question:

"_Now_, father, when do you think they will come and set us free?"

Gaunt, with their probable fate now apparently so near at hand, was
debating within himself what answer to return, when his attention was
arrested by a curious vibrating movement of his bonds, as though they
were being tampered with from behind the tree to which he was bound; and
ere he could collect his faculties sufficiently to even ask himself what
it meant, a low whisper from behind him caught his ear:

"Hush! it is I--Henderson!"

And at the same instant the ropes which bound him suddenly slackened
about his limbs and disappeared behind him.  Then an arm appeared round
the bole of the tree, and Gaunt felt the cold barrel of a rifle being
thrust into his hand, whilst the voice again whispered:

"Your own repeater fully loaded.  Now to loose poor little Percy."

Then Gaunt turned to his child--how white and haggard the dear little
fellow looked in the pallid light of the dawn--and, with a heart brimful
of gratitude to God for His priceless gift of restored freedom, said, in
reply to his question:

"_Very_ soon, now, my precious darling--now, _at once_, in fact.  But
Percy, dear boy, take care that you do not move or cry out when you feel
the rope loosening; stand perfectly still and quiet, my son, until I
tell you what to do."

The little fellow looked eagerly up into his father's face, and
whispered, "Yes, father."  And then Gaunt saw his look of surprise as he
felt Henderson's hand releasing him.  The bonds fell away; the child was
free; and presently Gaunt saw a shadowy figure bend forward and whisper
in the little fellow's ear.  There was a start, a faint cry of rapture,
the little arms were flung lovingly round the neck of the bending
figure, and Gaunt caught the murmured words:

"Thank you, dear doctor, oh, _thank you_!" followed by the soft sound of
a kiss.

But that childish involuntary cry of delight, faint as it was, had
caught the quick ear of the dozing guard; the fellow raised his head,
and, seeing that something was wrong--though he was still too drowsy to
distinguish what it was--scrambled to his feet and advanced toward
Gaunt.  Up to that moment the engineer had not moved; he was waiting for
the blood to circulate once more in his cramped limbs, and also for
Henderson to give him the cue for their next movement.  He remained
perfectly still until the Malay had approached within arm's-length of
him, and then, with a single lightning-like blow of his fist fair
between the eyes, he dropped the fellow senseless upon the grass at his
feet.

Then, swift as light, he glided behind the tree, where Henderson stood
with Percy in his arms, and, convulsively gripping the other's
outstretched hand, he murmured:

"A thousand thanks, old fellow!  Now, which way are we to go?"

"I arranged for Manners and Nicholls to join us in the bush-path yonder;
never dreaming that those two men would be posted there," whispered
Henderson in return.

"Well, come along, then," cheerily observed Gaunt.  "Never trouble about
the Malays; it is their misfortune that they happen to be in our way.
We must shoot them down if they offer to oppose our passage--ha! we
shall be _compelled_ to fight whether we will or not; that fellow whom I
knocked down is reviving, and he will raise the alarm before we have
gone a dozen feet.  Give me the child, my arms are still benumbed and
scarcely fit to hold a rifle, but I can carry him.  So, that is it"--as
Henderson handed over little Percy--"now let us make a run for it."

Therewith the two friends started at top speed for the entrance of the
bush-path, running straight toward the two Malay sentinels.  No sooner,
however, did they appear in the open than a cry was raised, and in an
instant the whole camp was on the alert, some of the Malays running to
intercept the fugitives whilst others hurriedly sprang for their muskets
and opened a wild fusillade upon them.  The two sentinels faced about,
and seeing the white men running at once raised their weapons to their
shoulders.

"Halt!" cried Gaunt, setting Percy down on the ground and facing about
toward their pursuers.  "Drop those two sentries, Henderson, for
Heaven's sake!  I will deal with the others!"

No sooner said than done.  Henderson pulled up at once and, coolly
receiving the fire of the two Malays--which, however, owing to their
being hurried, proved harmless--deliberately covered and dropped them,
one after the other.

"Are they down?" demanded Gaunt, as he also knocked over the leader of
the pursuing party.

"Yes, both down!" was the response.

"Then, on again!" exclaimed the engineer, snatching up his frightened
child and regaining Henderson's side.  As they ran, Henderson placed a
whistle between his lips and blew a single short piercing call upon it.
"That will soon bring the other two to our help," he gasped.

They were by this time within a hundred feet of the bush-path; but the
light-heeled Malays were close behind them.  The time for decisive
action had arrived.  Seeing this, Gaunt once more placed his child on
the ground and said:

"Now run home as fast as you can, dear boy, and tell mother that the
doctor and I hope to be with her in a quarter of an hour."

Then, as the little fellow made off at top speed, the father added:
"Thank God, _his_ retreat is secured if we can hold out for ten minutes.
Now, Henderson, true and trusty comrade, let us make a stand here and,
shoulder to shoulder, show these rascals how Englishmen can fight."

So, without another word, the two friends turned and stood at bay,
finding time to bring down two more of their foes by a couple of lucky
snap-shots before they were closed with.

And then began a battle, fierce and grim--sixteen Malays to two
Englishmen!  Luckily for the smaller party the Malays had, at the outset
of the disturbance, emptied their pieces ineffectually, and had found no
time to reload them, whilst Henderson had provided himself, in addition
to the two repeating rifles, with a brace of loaded six-chambered
revolvers, one of which he now handed to Gaunt.  With these and their
clubbed rifles the two men fought so desperately, that not only were the
Malays effectually checked in their attempt at an outflanking movement,
but actually foiled in their intention to bear down the two men by sheer
force of numbers and brute strength.  Swinging their rifles club-wise
with one hand and firing their revolvers with the other whenever they
saw a chance of making a shot tell, the Englishmen wrought such terrible
execution that at length the Malays drew back confounded.  At this
moment a cheer was heard close at hand, and in another instant up dashed
Manners and Nicholls, breathless with hard running, and placed
themselves one on each side of their two countrymen.

"_Now_ let us give them a volley!" cried Gaunt--who, his blood fairly
boiling at the recollection of the past night, had been fighting like a
demon--and, at the word, up went the four rifles to the "present."

"Choose each his man!" ordered the inexorable engineer: and then out
rang the four pieces, leaving three foes the less to deal with.  Hark!
what was that?  Not an echo of the rifle-shots, surely; no, it was the
_boom_ of a distant gun, unless the ears of all strangely deceived them.
Whatever it was, the Malays also heard the sound, and, looking for an
instant in consternation at each other, wavered, turned, and fled.

"Hurrah!" cried Gaunt exultantly, "rescue is at hand.  After the
rascals, and give them a lesson they will never forget!"

It was, perhaps, an imprudent thing to do, but away after the flying foe
went the four men, popping away with their revolvers, and so severely
galling the Malays that _sauve qui peut_ quickly became the word with
the latter, who now evidently thought of nothing but how to reach their
boats alive.  One in his frantic haste stumbled and fell, revealing his
features to Gaunt as he did so.  It was the wretch who had so cruelly
ill-treated little Percy on the night before.  With a couple of bounds
the engineer was upon him.  Wresting the creese from the fellow's hand,
Gaunt seized him by the collar and dragged him along the ground,
writhing, to a clump of canes growing close at hand.  With his foot on
the man's neck to keep him down, the engineer then cut with the creese a
stout, pliant cane, lifted the wretch to his feet by main strength, and,
dropping his weapons to the ground and still retaining his grip upon the
fellow's collar, deliberately thrashed him until the cane was split to
ribbons and the clothes literally cut from his back, finally dismissing
him with a kick which--apart from the thrashing--it is safe to say, that
Malay will never forget so long as his life shall last.  The unfortunate
wretch hobbled off with quite remarkable celerity--considering that
every bone in his body must have been aching--eager to overtake his
comrades, whose "way" had been very materially "freshened" not only by
the heat with which they were pursued but also by the booming of the
guns in the offing.  But he was too late.  When he reached the beach the
boats had shoved off; so, rather than remain where he was, the fellow
unhesitatingly plunged into the stream and swam off to the proa,
reaching her just in time to be hauled up over the side as, with slipped
cable and hastily-hoisted sail, the craft paid off and gathered way on
her road out to sea.

Gaunt followed more leisurely, for, in common with his three friends, he
had suffered somewhat in the _melee_--though, fortunately, none of them
were seriously hurt--and he reached the cove just in time to witness the
hasty departure of the proa.  He seized this, the first opportunity
which had presented itself, to heartily thank his companions for their
gallant rescue of himself and his child, inquired anxiously after the
safety and welfare of the little Lucille, and then said:

"I have been wondering what can be the meaning of that firing in the
offing.  I cannot help thinking it is intended as a signal of some kind
to _us_, and, assuming that to be the case, I can only account for it
upon the pleasant supposition that Captain Blyth, instead of perishing
in the hurricane as we feared, must have in some miraculous manner
escaped; and that it is he who is now outside, on board a rescue ship,
come to take us all off the island.  I think it would be well if you,
Manners, were to take the punt, and, with Nicholls, go out as far as the
harbour's mouth to reconnoitre, taking care not to show yourselves until
you are quite certain that the craft is a friendly one."

The two men named eagerly adopted the suggestion, and a minute later
were afloat and pulling rapidly down stream.  As soon as they were
fairly off Gaunt turned to Henderson and said:

"And now, my dear fellow, I think I will walk as far as the fort to
exchange a word or two with Ida, and assure them all of our safety; and
then I will rejoin you here to await the tidings from outside."

Meanwhile Manners and Nicholls, pushing off into the strength of the
current, sped rapidly toward the two headlands which guarded the
harbour's mouth; arriving at which they landed, hauled the punt up on
the beach, and made their way through the bushes to a point from which,
themselves unseen, they could get a clear view of the open sea outside.

And then what an exhilarating sight met their delighted eyes.  A large
full-rigged ship lay in the offing, about a mile distant, hove-to under
her three topsails, spanker, and jib.  At first they took her for a
corvette, her gear being all fitted in regular man-o'-war fashion; but
this mistake was instantly corrected upon their noticing that she flew
the _red_ ensign from her gaff, in addition to which she showed a burgee
with a long name on it at her main-royal mast-head, and the _pilot-jack_
at the fore.  By the greatest good luck Manners happened to have in his
pocket a small telescope which he had a trick of always carrying about
with him, and this he quickly brought to bear upon the stranger.
Watching him eagerly, Nicholls observed him change colour; a perplexed
expression passed over his face, his hand trembled.  For two long
minutes he remained steadfastly peering through the telescope; then he
suddenly closed it with a snap, and exclaimed excitedly:

"Away to the punt and pull out to sea for your life, Nicholls.  It is
the dear old _Cloud_, as I am a living sinner! and Miss Stanhope is on
the poop watching the island through the ship's glass.  There goes
another gun!"



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A DARING PLAN SUCCESSFULLY EXECUTED.

In accordance with Williams' plans the _Flying Cloud's_ cargo was in due
time discharged and warehoused on shore in the newly-built stores; the
ship herself stripped, hove down, scrubbed, and re-painted from her keel
up; her interior re-arranged--particularly the forecastle, which was
extended sufficiently to accommodate a hundred men; the upper spars
replaced by new ones, somewhat higher in the hoist, cut on the island;
her canvas altered to fit the new spars, skysails being abolished as
causing more trouble than they were worth; the running-gear re-arranged;
the deck-houses, with the exception of the poop, swept away; the
bulwarks strengthened and pierced; the breech-loading guns, twelve in
number, mounted on carriages and placed in position; and, generally, the
ship made to look as much like a man-of-war as possible, though she as
much resembled the old-fashioned sailing sloop which then still
performed duty on our more distant stations as a swan does a goose, her
sailing powers far exceeding those of the fastest of them, whilst
Williams' metamorphosis of her only had the effect of imparting to her
an extremely rakish and wicked appearance.

In due time--and not a very long time either, taking into consideration
the amount of work done--the ship was once more ready for sea; and
ballasted carefully down to her very best sailing trim, she left Refuge
Harbour for an extended piratical cruise.  It is not necessary to
describe in detail where she went, or the various adventures met with by
her crew; suffice it to say that the cruise proved wonderfully
successful, several very valuable prizes being taken--no less than three
being vessels with large amounts of specie on board.  When Williams
first mooted to the crew his proposal to seize the ship and convert her
into a pirate, he met the strongest objection raised by the more
scrupulous of the men by asserting that he had a plan whereby all
bloodshed could be avoided; this plan being no less than to practically
enslave such portions of the crews of the prospective prizes as refused
to become pirates, and to confine them at Refuge Harbour, there to
perform the large amount of work necessary to the complete furtherance
of Williams' ambitious schemes.  But, as may be supposed, this plan,
when put to a practical test, failed.  Capture was not in all cases
tamely submitted to--resistance was offered, blood was shed in the
conflict.  And when this had once happened all scruples vanished, and
the further step of murdering such prisoners as proved contumacious or
were inconvenient to keep was an easy one; the worst passions of the men
asserted themselves, and breaking loose from all restraint speedily
converted their possessors into very demons.

Miss Stanhope was daily and hourly in peril during the latter part of
that dreadful cruise.  Still, thanks to the compact with Ned and the
hold which he still had upon the crew, the unhappy girl had so far
escaped direct threats and open insult.  But toward the end of the
cruise matters had reached such a stage that she foresaw the absolute
necessity for effecting her escape immediately upon the arrival of the
ship again at Refuge Harbour.  The state of horror and terror into which
she was continually thrown was such that death itself seemed preferable
to a further continuance of such a life as she was then living.

At length the ship once more glided into the secure haven of Refuge
Harbour, and about five o'clock in the evening let go her anchor.  The
sails were furled anyhow--discipline having by this time grown very lax
on board the _Flying Cloud_ notwithstanding all Williams' efforts to
maintain it--and then the men, without going through the formality of
asking leave, lowered the boats and went ashore in a body; Sibylla, Ned,
and Williams being left to follow, if they chose, in the dinghy, which
they did, the steward being ordered to remain on board for the night as
anchor watch.

When the dinghy reached the shore its occupants discovered that the
ship's crew--among whom were several new hands who had joined from the
prizes--had already seized a cask of spirits, and were evidently bent
upon a carouse in celebration of the successful completion of their
first cruise.  They were then only rough and noisy, the liquor not
having had time to operate; but an hour later the entire band, with a
very few exceptions, had become converted into a howling mob of drunken
desperadoes, ripe and eager for any species of ruffianism which might
suggest itself.  Sibylla was at this time busy putting matters to rights
in the hut which Ned had caused to be erected on their previous visit to
the island, and Ned was busy in the same way in his tent when Williams,
happening to pass by, looked in at the latter.

"Hark ye, youngster," he gruffly remarked, "you and the young woman had
better keep well out of sight to-night, for if either of you are seen,
mischief may come of it; and whilst those beasts up there are in their
present condition neither I nor anybody else could help you.  The
rascals are mad drunk, and hungry for mischief.  They positively
_laughed_ at me just now when I tried to bring them to something like
order!  But if I don't make them smart for it to-morrow when we start to
overhaul the rigging, call me a Dutchman."

Coupled with what he had already seen and heard, this warning of
Williams' so seriously impressed Ned that he went to Sibylla's door and
called to her to put on her hat and join him outside.  As soon as she
appeared Ned said:

"Look here, Miss Stanhope, Williams has just been here to tell me that
the men up there are mad with drink and--as he phrased it--_hungry_ for
mischief.  Judging from the frightful noise and commotion among them I
should say he is right, and I have called you out to tell you that I
think it will be best for you and me to return on board the ship; the
steward is there, you know, and he and I can keep the anchor watch
between us, whilst you take your rest as usual in your own cabin."

Sibylla had long ago come to the conclusion that she could do no better
than follow poor Captain Blyth's advice and unreservedly follow Ned's
instructions, so she at once announced her readiness to do whatever he
thought best.  Upon this Ned, believing that no time was to be lost, at
once extinguished the lights and, locking the door, placed the key in
his pocket; after which, taking a somewhat circuitous route in order to
avoid attracting attention, he and Miss Stanhope made their way down to
the spot where they had left the dinghy.

The boat was still there, with her oars and rowlocks in her just as she
had been left, so handing his companion in and instructing her to sit
steady, Ned placed his shoulder against the stem of the boat, and with a
powerful shove sent her stern-foremost off the beach, springing in over
the bows as he did so.  There was a bright moon, nearly full, riding
high in the sky, and Ned was rather apprehensive that his movements
might attract attention and provoke pursuit.  But the men had, for some
reason or other, kindled a large fire, round which they were holding
their carouse, and Damerell could only hope that the brilliant blaze
would dazzle their eyes, and blind them to everything beyond the circle
of its influence.  Perhaps it did so, for when they reached the ship
there was no sign of pursuit.

Ned had never allowed the idea of escape to be absent from his thoughts
for a single day since the memorable one upon which the ship had first
been seized; but, fertile as he usually was in resource, he had never
been able to think of anything practicable except that of seeking a
refuge in the treasure-cave; and this scheme was open to so many serious
objections that he and Sibylla had agreed together that it must not be
adopted except as a very last resource.  Now, however, as the dinghy
approached the ship and Ned gazed admiringly aloft at the tall graceful
spars and complicated network of rigging, and reflected that at that
moment the beautiful fabric was in charge of only one man--and that man
friendly to him, as he had long ago ascertained--a daring idea suddenly
took possession of him; and, without giving himself time to reflect, he
there and then resolved upon its execution.

The wind was blowing moderately fresh from the north-west; but so secure
was the anchorage and so good the holding-ground that, on arriving on
board, Ned was not at all surprised to find that the steward, instead of
keeping watch, had gone below and turned in, trusting to luck that, once
on shore, nobody would dream of going off again to the ship that night.
This arrangement, however, though it might be perfectly satisfactory to
the steward, by no means suited Ned, who at once went below and
unceremoniously routed the poor man out of his berth.

"Price," said he, "I have something of the utmost importance to say to
you.  I have noticed that in the course of conversation, when nobody
else has been present, you have frequently gone out of your way to
remind me that I am an unwilling member of the piratical crew in the
midst of which we find ourselves, and you have also dropped sundry hints
that if ever I happen to hit upon a way of escape you will be more than
pleased to accompany me.  Now, I want to know exactly what you have
meant by this."

"Just exactly what I have said, Mr Damerell--or rather what _you_ have
just said," answered Price.  "I joined the party because I had no fancy
for being left to die on a desert island, like those unfortunate
passengers or the poor skipper and Mr Manners; but I didn't then know
what was before me, sir.  I am a peaceable man, I am, and though I've
had no hand in any of the bloodshed that has occurred since we sailed
from here, I know that murder has been committed, and I want to separate
myself from the murderers.  If I could I would have prevented the mutiny
in the first place; but I never knew that anything serious was
intended--"

"Well, never mind about that just now," interrupted Ned; "the present
question is this.  If I happened to have formed a plan of escape--a
plan, we will say, involving a considerable amount of risk and a great
deal of hard work, would you be willing to join me in it?"

"Would I?  Only try me, Mr Damerell--try me, sir!  Why, there is _no_
risk, _no_ labour I would not willingly face for a good chance to escape
from that pack of yelling savages over yonder.  Why, what are they doing
now, sir?  Blest if it doesn't look as though they had been and set fire
to the hut, sir!"

Ned ran into the saloon and brought the glass on deck.

"_They have_!" he exclaimed, looking through the instrument at a bright
blaze which was leaping up among the trees on shore.  "Well, never
mind," he continued; "it does not matter, for I intend attempting an
escape from them to-night--now, at once--and glad enough shall I be to
have your assistance.  I intend nothing less than to run off with the
ship; so--"

"To run off with the ship?" echoed Price.  "Oh, Mr Damerell, we can
never do that, sir--"

"I shall _try_, at all events," interrupted Ned.  "So whilst I slip out
and cast loose the jib, do you go below to the boatswain's locker and
bring me from thence a cold chisel and a good heavy hammer."

Without further parley, Price did as he was bidden, and very soon he and
Ned were busy knocking out the pin from the shackle in the cable which
happened to be nearest the hawse-pipe.  The job occupied them fully a
quarter of an hour, for the pin was rusted-in; but at length out it
came, and in another minute away went the end of the cable out through
the hawse-pipe and into the water with a loud rattle and a splash.

"So far, so good," said Ned.  "Now, Price, I want you to take the glass
and keep a sharp watch upon the shore.  The ship is now adrift, and
driving slowly stern-foremost toward the outer basin.  So long as we see
no sign of alarm from the people on shore I shall let her drive; that
will increase our chances of a good start.  But the moment you see any
indication of an attempt to launch a boat give me the word; and we must
then get the jib on the ship and put her head round.  There is a fine
breeze blowing, and if we can only get outside the heads without being
overtaken, I have no fears whatever."

So saying, Ned ran aft and placed himself at the wheel, which he
manipulated in such a way as to keep the ship head to wind with her bows
pointing toward the shore, thus keeping up the appearance that she was
still riding to her anchor.  Price meanwhile posted himself on the
forecastle, and kept the telescope levelled at the shore.

For some time all went well.  The ship, under the influence of the fresh
breeze, which effected her with increasing power as she lengthened her
distance from the land, drove steadily astern; and still no warning word
came from Price.  At length, however, when she had drifted about a mile,
and had arrived within about a mile and three-quarters of the contracted
channel between the north and south bluffs which divided the inner from
the outer basin, the steward cried out:

"They are after us, Mr Damerell; I can see the flash of oars in the
moonlight!"

"All right!" answered Ned, sending the wheel hard over with a spin, and
leaving it to rush forward.  "Now, Price, aft with the starboard jib-
sheets, and belay them--not too flat, man; let them flow a bit--so,
that's well!  Now tail on here to the halliards with me and let us set
the sail.  Up with it! that's your sort!  Now take it under the
belaying-pin and let me browse it up.  Yo-ho; ho-hip; ho-ho!  Belay
that!  Now, the main-topmast staysail.  Let go the down-haul; that is
it, that rope you have your hand on--cast it off!  That's right.  Here
are the sheets; hook the clips into that ring-bolt there close to the
second gun.  That is all right.  Now take a turn with the running part
round that cleat!  Capital!  Now wait a moment."

The ship was by this time broadside-on to the wind and gathering headway
under the powerful influence of the jib, necessitating a hand at the
wheel.  Ned therefore ran aft, and, summoning the astonished Sibylla
from her cabin, where she was making her preparations for passing
another night on board, he sent her to the wheel, with instructions how
to act, but concealing from her for the present the fact that they were
pursued.  Most fortunately for the runaways, the young lady was by this
time quite a practised helmsman--or _helmswoman_ rather.  She could not
only steer straight, but she also knew the difference between port and
starboard, and understood in which direction to turn the wheel upon
receiving either of those mystic words of command.  She consequently now
proved a most useful auxiliary, and left Ned at full liberty to devote
himself to the toilsome task of getting canvas upon the ship.

With the aid of the winch the two men succeeded in getting the main-
topmast staysail set, after which they hauled out the spanker.  They
were now running for the passage between the two bluffs, with the wind
over their starboard quarter, the ship in her best possible sailing trim
going through the water at a speed of nearly three knots.  This,
however, was not fast enough to suit Ned, for though they had secured a
capital start, and he conjectured that the pursuers were too thoroughly
intoxicated to be capable of pulling a boat at any very great speed, he
knew that at the south-western extremity of the outer basin they would
reach the most difficult part of their navigation.  This consisted of a
channel only half a mile in width by about a mile and a quarter in
length, bending to the south-east, where the ship would be almost
completely becalmed under the high land.  And it was here, if anywhere,
that he expected to be overtaken.  So, without wasting time to ascertain
the whereabouts of the pursuing boat, he hurried aloft and cast off the
lashing from the main-topgallant-staysail, and, sending the sheets down
on deck, descended and helped Price to set the sail.  He now had as much
canvas upon the ship as he believed he and the steward could
conveniently manage for the present.  He was, therefore, compelled to
content himself with making a tour of the decks and so trimming the
sheets as that the different sails set should draw to the utmost
advantage.  Then, and not until then, did he allow himself leisure to
take a peep through the glass at what was going on astern.  The sight
which met his eyes was by no means reassuring, for he now saw that there
were no less than _three_ boats in pursuit, the foremost of which--one
of the gigs--was distinctly gaining upon him.

"If they have no firearms with them," said Ned to Price, "I think we may
perhaps be able to keep them from boarding, even in the event of their
overtaking us; and, in any case, I think it will be advisable to have up
on deck and load a few of those rifles from the arm-chest, for having
gone so far it will never do now for us to allow ourselves to be taken.
Get the keys of the arm-chest and magazine, Joe, and bring up a couple
of dozen rifles and a few packets of cartridges."

The rifles were brought on deck and loaded carefully, half of them being
stacked in the waist of the ship, whilst the other half, with a liberal
supply of ammunition, were taken up on the poop.

By the time that this was done the ship had reached the passage between
the bluffs, and as soon as she was fairly through Ned kept away dead
before the wind for the mouth of the "Narrows," as the contracted
entrance channel was called.  The ship being under fore-and-aft canvas
only, this alteration in her course was a disadvantage rather than
otherwise, the staysails refusing to stand properly; moreover the high
land was now once more close aboard of them on both quarters, rendering
the wind light and shifty, in consequence of which the ship lost way
perceptibly.  Ned became increasingly anxious; so much so, indeed, that
he resolved to get more canvas upon the ship, and running out to the
flying-jib-boom he loosed the flying-jib, set it with Price's
assistance, and then went aft and set the mizen-topmast staysail--a very
large sail, reaching from the mizen-topmast head down to within twelve
feet of the main deck.  This addition to the amount of canvas spread had
an immediately perceptible effect; and going aft to the taffrail, and
from thence watching the approach of the boats, Ned believed he should
be fairly in the Narrows before the gig reached him.

The ship was fully half-way across the outer basin when the gig--the
leading boat--opened fire upon her.  The weapon employed was evidently a
rifle, for though the boat was half a mile astern Ned distinctly heard
the whistle of the bullet overhead, showing not only that they were well
within the range of the piece, but also that it had been skilfully and
steadily aimed, a circumstance which led him to conjecture that
Williams, probably the only perfectly sober man in the entire crew, must
be in charge of the boat.  The ship being thus proved to be within
range, Ned now took the wheel himself, sending Sibylla below to the
saloon, with instructions not to venture from thence out on deck until
he should intimate to her that she could do so with safety.  The firing,
however, was not maintained, and a quarter of an hour later Ned had the
satisfaction of putting his helm down and rounding East Point at the
inner extremity of the Narrows.  The sheets now had to be trimmed over,
but the ship being found to steer herself, this was not a matter of any
very great difficulty, Ned leaving the helm to itself for the short time
necessary to enable him and Price to perform the operation; but when he
returned to his post he was greatly concerned to discover that the gig
was less than a quarter of a mile astern, and coming up rapidly, though,
from the unsteady way in which the oars were being handled, it was
evident that the crew were pretty nearly exhausted with their long pull.

The fugitives were now fairly within the Narrows, and in their narrowest
part, moreover; the shore being within a quarter of a mile of them on
either hand.  This of itself would have been a matter of no consequence,
however, had the configuration of the land been different; but,
unfortunately, the cliffs towered high above the mast-heads on both
sides of the ship, and as the wind happened to be blowing athwart the
channel the canvas was almost becalmed; indeed, had it not been for a
little draught of air which now and then came down the channel astern of
her, the _Flying Cloud_ would have lost headway altogether.  As it was
she still moved through the water, though at a speed barely sufficient
to give her steerage-way; and the crew of the gig, seeing her almost
helpless condition, raised a loud confused shout, which they doubtless
meant for a cheer, and redoubled their efforts at the oars.

Ned lashed the wheel and took up one of the rifles, Price taking
another.

"Now," said Ned, "I have no wish to shed blood if I can help it, so we
will not fire until the very last moment; but if the gig approaches near
enough to enable us to distinguish Williams' eyes--there he sits in the
stern-sheets with the yoke-lines in his hands--we _must_ fire in self-
defence.  And mind, Joe, it is the oarsmen we must fire at; we must
disable _them_, and so prevent the nearer approach of the boat, for if
she once gets alongside and they succeed in boarding us, our throats
will be cut within five minutes afterwards.  Look out!  Williams is
going to fire again!"

They saw the pirate raise his rifle and take a long steady aim; then
came the flash.  The bullet struck the taffrail just at their feet.
Williams dashed the piece down, savagely disappointed at his ill-
success; and Ned stepped to the wheel and gave it a slight adjusting
touch.  When he turned again Williams was standing up in the boat, with
his hands to his mouth, and next moment came the hail:

"_Cloud_ ahoy!  If you will heave-to at once I solemnly swear that no
harm will come to either of you.  I will pass over and forgive your mad
attempt to run away with the ship; but if you compel us to pull
alongside and recapture her, look out!  Your punishment shall be such
that I will make you positively _pray_ to be put out of your misery.  Do
you hear me, there?"

"I can see his eyes now," said Ned.  "I will fire first; and directly
the smoke clears away you must follow suit, taking care to fire into the
thick of the crew so as to do all the mischief possible.  Now!"

As Ned spoke he levelled his piece, and aiming carefully, pulled the
trigger.  Simultaneously with the report came a sharp yell of agony and
a groan, and as the smoke drifted away two oars were seen to drop
overboard and two forms to sink down into the bottom of the boat.  Then
Price's piece spoke out, and Williams himself sprang convulsively from
his seat and fell forward.  This caused a great deal of confusion and a
temporary suspension of the pursuit, during which Ned again went to the
helm.  By this time the ship, having drifted past the highest point of
land to windward, once more began to feel the breeze; and when the gig--
having lost a good hundred yards' distance--again resumed the chase the
ship was creeping ahead at a speed of fully three knots, with the wind
coming truer and fresher at every fathom of progress.  The men in the
gig now pulled most furiously, and actually crept up to within about
twenty feet of the ship's quarter, but--she increasing her speed every
moment--they could get no nearer, try as they would.  At length one of
them bethought himself of the rifle, which he picked up and with some
difficulty loaded; then, standing up unsteadily in the stern-sheets, he
pointed and fired the piece, harmlessly so far as the fugitives were
concerned, but not so for himself, for the recoil and his intoxicated
condition together combined to upset his equilibrium so completely that
as the piece exploded he staggered backwards and, amid the jeers and
loud laughter of his comrades, disappeared with a splash over the stern
of the boat.  The pause made to pick him up terminated the pursuit,
which had now become hopeless, and ten minutes later the _Flying Cloud_
glided past West Point and was rising and falling on the swell of the
open ocean.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE ARRIVAL HOME OF THE "FLYING CLOUD."

As soon as the ship was fairly clear of the harbour Ned kept her away on
a south-west by west course for the island on which the skipper and
Manners had been landed; and then, resolved to make the most of the fair
wind and the fine weather, he ran aloft and loosed the three topsails,
which, with a considerable amount of labour, and with the aid of the
winch and a snatch-block, he and Price actually succeeded in getting
sheeted home and mast-headed.  The yards being laid square, the
adventurers had now nothing to do but to steer the ship, Sibylla
spending the greater part of the day at the wheel--thus affording her
companions an opportunity to snatch a little rest--whilst Ned and Price
alternately steered and kept the look-out through the night; and such
excellent progress did they make that at noon on the day but one
following that of their escape from Refuge Harbour, they had the
satisfaction of heaving-to the ship off the skipper's island.  Here the
colours were hoisted and a gun was fired at frequent intervals, a keen
scrutiny of the island being maintained meanwhile with the aid of the
telescope, so that if the captain and Manners were still there they
might have an opportunity afforded them to paddle off to the ship, or at
least to signal their presence.  Hour after hour passed away, however,
without any sign being discoverable of the existence of living beings
upon the island; and at length, just as the sun was setting, Ned once
more filled upon the ship and headed for Gaunt's island, shrewdly
surmising--what he afterwards found to be the truth--that the skipper
and Manners had found means to rejoin the passengers.

The mountain on Gaunt's island was made about three o'clock next
morning, from the deck of the _Flying Cloud_, the atmosphere being
somewhat hazy at the time; and daybreak found the ship off the north-
eastern extremity of the island, some two miles distant, when the
colours were again hoisted and guns fired as before, the reports
serving, as has already been seen, to greatly disconcert the Malays and
expedite their departure.

The first thing seen by the anxious watchers on the ship's deck was the
proa crowding sail out of the harbour, a sight which filled them with
the keenest anxiety; and Ned, thinking it possible that his friends
might at that moment be prisoners on board the vessel, was busying
himself in making preparations to open fire upon her, with the hope that
he might be able to dismast her and so frustrate her attempt to escape,
when his mind was set at rest by the sight of the punt pulling off to
him with Manners and Nicholls in her.  Filling upon the ship and running
down toward the tiny craft, Ned and his companions soon had the
satisfaction of shaking hands with their two former shipmates, after
which came mutual hurried inquiries and explanations, in which, on the
part of the islanders, the adventures of the past night naturally
occupied an important place.  To hear that the entire party were safe,
with the exception of a few comparatively trifling scratches, was a
great relief to the minds of the new arrivals, as also was the statement
that a capital harbour existed, into which the ship could be taken and
moored with perfect safety.  For the mouth of the harbour the _Flying
Cloud_ was now headed, under Manners' pilotage, and half an hour later
she rounded-to and let go her anchor in mid-stream exactly opposite the
creek, to the unbounded astonishment and delight of Henderson and Gaunt,
the latter having rejoined the doctor just in time to witness the
arrival.

The halliards were let go and the sails rolled up as smartly as possible
by the four men on board; and then, the side-ladder being rigged for
Sibylla's accommodation, all hands descended to the punt, the paddles
were tossed out and the boat was headed for the beach.

The unbounded delight and exultation on all hands when at length a
general meeting took place at the fort must be left to the lively
imagination of the reader; an entire chapter would be needed for its
adequate portrayal, and time presses.  Suffice it to say that there was
only one bitter drop in the cup of happiness quaffed by the party that
morning, and that was the sad loss of poor Captain Blyth, which Ned felt
with exceptional keenness, not only because it was wholly unexpected by
him, but also because he had, ever since making good his escape, been
looking forward with pleasurable anticipation to the moment when he
should be able to hand over the ship to her rightful commander.

The whole of that day was spent by the party in the interchange of a
full and detailed recital of the various events which had transpired
since the moment of their separation; and when it came to Ned's turn he
was, as may be supposed, especially eloquent upon the subject of the
treasure which he had discovered.  His description of the contents of
the cave, together with the exhibition of the pearls and precious stones
already secured, made a profound impression upon his hearers, who fully
agreed with him that such vast possibilities of wealth were not to be
lightly abandoned.  How to secure it was, however, the question--a
question which Ned solved the moment he set eyes upon the _Petrel_.  He
proposed that she should at once be completed and launched, and that,
whilst the rest of the party should effect a leisurely removal of
themselves and whatever they wished to take with them on board the
_Flying Cloud_, he, with Manners, should proceed in the cutter to Refuge
Harbour, and, watching their opportunity, run in during the night,
secure the treasure, and leave again next morning--as they could easily
manage to do--before the pirates could gain an idea of their being at
hand.  It was a risky thing to attempt, certainly, though not nearly so
risky as it at first sight appears; and after a full and exhaustive
discussion of the chances for and against success the bold scheme was
agreed to.

Accordingly, on the following morning all hands went to work with a
will; and they laboured to such good purpose that the last finishing
touches were put to the little craft on the Friday following, leaving
nothing to be done on the Saturday but the actual launching, and such
trimming of the ballast as might be found necessary when she was afloat.
The launch was effected successfully, the ceremony of christening being
performed by little Lucille; and, it being found when the craft was
afloat that only a very trifling alteration was necessary in the
distribution of the ballast, the alteration was at once made, after
which all hands repaired on board, sail was made, and they went outside
to try the cutter's paces.  The result was more than satisfactory--it
was a delightful surprise; for not only in her sea-going powers but also
in the qualities of speed and weatherliness did the _Petrel_ far exceed
the most sanguine anticipations of everybody, including her designer.
They worked to windward for about three hours and then returned to the
harbour, where the remainder of the day was spent in getting on board
the provisions, water, and other necessaries for the projected trip.

On the following Monday the _Petrel_ sailed for Refuge Harbour, with Ned
as skipper and Manners as mate, cook, steward, and crew, all rolled into
one--the adventurers receiving all sorts of cautions and good wishes as
they said good-bye at the cove.  The course to be steered was east-
north-east, or nearly dead to windward as the wind stood at that season,
and the distance was about three hundred miles; so it was calculated
that the trip there and back would occupy about a week.  But no sooner
were they fairly outside the harbour's mouth than Ned and Manners
exchanged the opinion that a smart little weatherly fore-and-aft rigged
craft like the _Petrel_ ought to do the distance in considerably less
than the time specified; and they forthwith took measures to practically
demonstrate the soundness of that opinion, "carrying-on" sail to such a
daring extent that even poor Captain Blyth would have remonstrated had
he been with them.  The craft, however, was staunch, the spars and
rigging sound, the canvas new; and the youthful mariners, though daring,
were by no means reckless.  The weather also was settled and the wind
steady, if somewhat fresh.  All, therefore, went well with them, and so
thoroughly did the cutter answer the expectations of her crew that at
dawn on the Wednesday morning--the second day out--the high land of
Refuge Harbour was distinctly visible from the deck, showing just above
the horizon like a sharply-defined purplish-grey blot upon the primrose-
tinted sky to windward.  At the same time the adventurers also made out
something else, to wit, a fleet of five sail of small craft dead to
windward--in fact, immediately between the cutter and the island.  At
first they were considerably puzzled to determine the character of these
small craft, which were steering due west; but at length, as they closed
and became more distinctly visible, Ned was enabled to solve the riddle.
The fleet was none other than _the boats belonging to the Flying
Cloud_!  And Ned conjectured that the hasty abandonment of Refuge
Harbour, indicated by the appearance of the boats at sea, arose either
from a fear that Ned might give such information of the existence of the
place as would lead to the speedy capture of its occupants, or a
determination on the part of the discomfited pirates to seek at sea a
substitute for the noble ship of which they had been so cleverly
deprived.  Whichever--if either--of these surmises might have been the
correct one, a very lively interest in the movements of the _Petrel_ was
speedily manifested by the occupants of the boats, makeshift signals of
distress being promptly displayed on board each craft.  Ned paid
attention to these to the extent of closing with the fleet sufficiently
to enable him to establish their identity beyond all question, after
which he calmly made arrangements to avoid them.  When this was seen the
boats hauled up in pursuit, but they might as well have attempted to
pursue the sea-birds which hovered in their wake.  Ned so manoeuvred as
to pass the nearest boat well out of rifle-shot, at the same time
steering such a course as would be unlikely to excite any suspicion that
he was bound to Refuge Harbour; and though the pursuit was maintained
for nearly an hour, its hopelessness had by that time become so apparent
that the boats again bore up and were soon afterwards lost to view in
the western board.

For the information of those interested in the ultimate fate of the
pirates it may be as well to mention here that they were from that time
never more seen or heard of.

It was just noon that day when the _Petrel_ entered the narrows; and,
all fear of discovery by the pirates being now at an end, Ned took her
directly alongside the cliff immediately underneath the entrance to the
treasure-cave and began the shipment of the treasure.  This was an easy
and expeditious task, the jars of gold-dust and the gold bricks being
simply slung at the end of a line and lowered down the cliff-face to
Manners, who received them below.  The casket with the remainder of the
gems was not forgotten; and one particular bale of embroidered stuffs
which Sibylla had declared to be of priceless value was also taken; as
were such of the shields and weapons as would bear handling--Gaunt and
Henderson having expressed a very particular wish to possess some of
these, as quite unique curiosities.  But the ivory and the other bulky
articles were left for the benefit of whosoever might choose to go after
them.  The shipment was completed in about three hours, after which Ned
entered the inner basin and worked up as far as the anchorage, which
spot was indicated by the buoy still watching over the slipped anchor.
But though nobody was to be seen, and the storehouses had all the
appearance of being completely abandoned, the voyagers were far too
prudent to land--for which, indeed, there was no inducement--and, having
satisfied their curiosity, they wore round and proceeded at once to sea,
passing out through the Narrows again just as the sun was setting.
Thirty-six hours later, or about six o'clock on the following Friday
morning, they once more entered Gaunt's harbour and let go their anchor,
to the accompaniment of a surprised and delighted shout of welcome from
Nicholls, who--the entire party having removed on board the _Flying
Cloud_--happened to be keeping the anchor watch at the time.

But little more remains to be told.  Being so shorthanded, the party
found it impossible to take the _Petrel_ away from the island with them;
she was therefore moved to a snug berth well up the river--her cargo, of
course, being first transferred to the _Flying Cloud_--and there well
thatched over with palm-leaves to protect her from the weather, in the
hope that if ever any unfortunates should be cast away upon the island
she might prove of service in enabling them to effect their escape; and
there she may possibly be at the present moment.

This done, the party made sail in the _Flying Cloud_ for Batavia, the
nearest port, which, the weather still favouring them, was reached after
a short but toilsome passage.  Here they were fortunate enough to pick
up a shipwrecked crew of Englishmen who were only too glad to ship for
the passage home, especially as Ned felt justified in offering them the
top scale of wages; and the owners of the _Cloud_ having been
telegraphed to and letters written by all hands, advising their friends
of their safety, sail was once more made, this time for Old England
direct.  On the voyage home the _Flying Cloud_ fully justified the name
which had been bestowed upon her; for, carrying on night and day, Ned
succeeded in making the fastest passage on record from Anjer to the
Lizard.  The latter, or rather the light, was sighted one fine April
night in the first watch, nearly two years after the ship had last
passed it; and on the following day she hauled in round Portland, stood
across into Weymouth Bay to show her number, and then bore away up
channel again, a fine westerly breeze prevailing at the time, which Ned
was anxious to make the most of.  At daylight next morning a tug came
alongside in the Downs, and after the usual amount of chaffering, the
tow-rope was passed on board her and she went ahead, the ship's crew at
the same time going aloft to stow the canvas under the watchful eye of
Manners, who was acting chief-mate, and who was particularly earnest in
his exhortations to them to "be careful that you make a _harbour_ furl
of it, lads!"

Gaily the good ship stemmed the tide as she ploughed her stately way up
the river in the wake of the grimy little tug; and a right noble and
beautiful sight did she present, in all the glory of fresh paint and
newly-blacked rigging--laid on during a spell of fine weather
experienced just before entering the channel--with her white canvas
snugly stowed, yards laid accurately square, running-rigging hauled taut
and neatly coiled down, with the house-flag floating at the main-royal-
mast-head, the burgee at the mizen, and the red ensign at the gaff-end.
Many were the admiring glances bestowed upon her from the craft which
were passed either going up or down the river--for, being only in deep
ballast trim, she towed light, and passed ahead of nearly all the
inward-bound craft--and at length a great bluff-bowed, deeply-laden
barque was overtaken, the quarter-deck occupants of which appeared to
manifest not only admiration but quite a surprising amount of curiosity
as the two vessels closed.  For a little group of men and women had
gathered aft on board this barque for the evidently express purpose of
getting the longest and best possible view of the _Flying Cloud_, many
of them being provided with opera-glasses, which seemed glued to their
eyes, albeit it was evident from their occasional gestures that they
were listening intently to the eager and excited utterances of one of
their number, a shortish, thick-set, grey-haired man clad in blue serge
garnished with gilt buttons, whom our friends naturally supposed to be
the skipper of the craft.  At length, as the _Flying Cloud_ ranged up on
the larboard quarter of the barque, the excited blue-clad figure
appeared to suddenly go demented altogether, for, rushing to the
barque's gangway, he threw himself over rather than descended the
vessel's side into a boat which was towing alongside, and with imperious
gestures seemed to command the boatmen to convey him to the approaching
ship.  They obeyed, and the distance of the two vessels being but short,
in less than a minute a voice--well known, notwithstanding its excited,
exultant ring--hailed:

"_Flying Cloud_ ahoy! heave us a rope's-end, will ye, and let your
captain come on aboard!"

With a delighted shout the _old_ hands rushed to the gang way, Ned
foremost; the rope's-end was thrown, the boat sheered alongside, and in
another moment Captain Blyth, alive, well, and as hearty as ever, stood
once more on his own quarter-deck, shaking hands convulsively with
everybody who came near him, with the unheeded tears chasing each other
down his cheeks as he huskily replied to the enthusiastic greetings of
those who had long ago given him up for lost.

His story was a long one, but it may be condensed into a few words.  The
raft, contrary to all expectation, had held together and lived through
the terrific hurricane, before which it was driven furiously to the
southward, to be wrecked eventually upon a small islet, whence, after
many months of hardship and privation, the skipper had been rescued by a
sandal-wood trader and conveyed to Singapore.  He there joined the
barque, homeward bound, the hospitable skipper gladly offering him a
passage home, and, by a singular coincidence, had arrived in the river
only an hour or two ahead of his own ship.  He was full of pride and
delight at the way in which Ned had outwitted the pirates at last and
run away with the ship; and could find no words in which to express his
admiration of Sibylla's courage under her long-protracted and trying
ordeal, and his gratitude at her escape; and when at length the stories
of the various actors in this little drama had been fully told, and he
had congratulated them upon their marvellous deliverance, he wound up
all by saying:

"Well, I took the ship out, it is true, and I lost her; but, thanks be
to God, I can now face my owners with the words, `There is your ship, in
as good order and condition as when you placed her in my charge; and if
I didn't get her back from the pirates for you, I at least had the
training of the man who did, which is almost as good, I take it.'"

The arrival home of the vessel, so long overdue, and the publication of
the adventures of those who went out and came home again in her, created
a profound sensation almost throughout the length and breadth of
England, and proved quite a god-send to the daily papers for a few days;
but it was soon obliterated by the occurrence of events of greater
importance to the community at large, and the chief personages of the
story were allowed to sink back into a welcome obscurity, although the
public interest in the subject was fitfully revived from time to time by
accounts of proceedings in connection with the restoration, as far as
possible, to its rightful owners of the booty brought home in the
_Flying Cloud's_ hold; but even this complicated matter was settled
after a time, and now the good ship's name never appears in the public
prints except in the advertising columns as being "for Melbourne
direct," or among the shipping news as "spoken" or "arrived."

Like most seamen, Ned was generosity itself, and had he been allowed to
have his way, the treasure found at Refuge Harbour would have been
equally divided among all those who had participated with him in that
adventurous voyage; but to such a proposal, of course, not one of the
interested parties would listen.  Nicholls and Price, however,
eventually consented to accept a moderate pension, and the doctor and
the engineer point proudly to their trophies of ancient arms as they
tell the story connected with them to their friends.  Captain Blyth
still commands the _Flying Cloud_, ship and captain alike being the most
popular in the trade; and Bob Manners was, at latest accounts,
superintending, on full pay, the building and equipment of a magnificent
yacht, in which Mrs Damerell, _nee_ Stanhope, hopes to accompany her
husband on a luxurious trip round the world.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Missing Merchantman, by Harry Collingwood